Forming a bond
by LovelessDestiny
Summary: Clint/Phil, slash. Prequel for 'Everlasting bond'. A story about how they met, how their relationship developed and how the bond affected their lives. Ups and downs, love, angst, hurt/comfort and more love. I thought it might be a nice idea to write the back-story :)
1. Who are you, pretty stranger?

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, except the story idea used in the fic.

Rating: T, to make sure.

Pairing: Clint/Phil, what else.

Warning: mention of past child abuse, mentioning of past prostitution, violence, swearing.

Summary: It's the prequel to Everlasting bond. I decided to write about how they met, how their relationship developed and how the bond came into the mix.

A./N.: I intended to finish the story before I publish it but I have to work a lot and it could take while so I decided to publish it the way it is. I work on it every day (sometimes I write one page, sometimes four or six), so don't worry. But It could take one or two more weeks and I could use some morally support :) Poor overworked youth care worker, sniff. Got hurt last week, bruised knee and deep grazes, my ego is a little low at the moment but the kid had nothing to laugh after that. Sigh.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

This particular mission was again one of S.H.I.E.L.D's bigger cluster-fucks .

The target got warned and waited for the agents to come, including heavy weapons and more than a dozen mercenaries as a special greeting.

Coulson hated these's days, unnecessary losses of agents, a huge amount of paperwork and the feeling that he failed his men.

Phil tried to get one of his agents behind the SUV as a mercenary decided they would be an easy target.

A young man grabbed the gun of a dead enemy and shot the mercenary before he even knew what was happening.

_What the hell are civilians doing here? The area should be clear!_ Coulson raged inwardly while he continued to drag his hurt agent along.

A cry of pain caught Phil's attention, it seemed the civilian got shot "Wait here, Carol. EMT's are on their way," he hurried to the fallen man.

The fight was pretty much over and just occasional shots rang out, "Don't move," Phil said calmly while he looked for the wound.

A bullet to the gut, "I have to put pressure on it." Phil shrugged off his jacket and pressed it against the wound. He could feel the young man tense beneath his hand and the pitiful whimper sent a pang of guilt through his heart.

The man was young, maybe early twenty, he had the most beautiful blue eyes Phil had ever seen.

The kid was looking at him with big surprised eyes, as if he didn't understand why Coulson bothered with helping him.

Phil shifted a little and lifted the kid's head up to place it against his knees, "Help is on the way." His voice still smooth and calm but he gave in the urge to run his thumb over the young man's temple while his hand rested against his cheek to offer comfort.

There was something close to resignation in the man's eyes and it was painfully obvious that he was scared of dying.

"You're not alone. And thank you for saving my life." Phil was surprised by the shock in the man's eyes. _Has no one ever thanked you before? Are you living on the streets?_

The kid clenched the sleeve of Phil's dress-shirt in his fist and held on for dear life, wincing as a wave of pain racked through his body.

He closed his eyes and just listened to the soothing voice of the older S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

"Hold on." There was a hint of fear in it, _strange no one ever cared for me so why should a stranger?_

The medics arrived shortly after the young man lost consciousness.

Phil knew they would bring him to a regular hospital and talk him into not suing them.

Hopefully the young man would survive.

:::::::::::::

Weeks passed and Coulson couldn't find the kid, he had tried every trick to gain information but failed.

The pretty young man who saved his life was most probably dead and that tore on Phil's heart.

"Listen Hawkeye, on the second floor in Room 234, is an air duct that leads straight to the roof. The third building from your position, on the north-east, has a convention going. No one will notice one more unfamiliar face between many." It was the first time he had to work with S.H.I.E.L.D's infamous menace and that only because Hawkeye's new handler was fed up and refused to rescue his asset.

He heard a lot about the man and he saw a few of the handlers he broke.

It wasn't pretty.

"Copy that." Clint tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. It was the smooth and calming voice of the Agent who cared for him a few weeks back.

He didn't figure out who the guy was but he knew that he deserved some trust.

"Hawkeye, talk to me." Phil ordered after an explosion in the hotel Hawkeye had been last seen.

"Enemy threw a grenade, I'm on my way to the roof, sir." He was as polite as he could.

"Don't get your ass blown up before Wilson can do the paperwork, in case of your death during my watch I have to put up with it, and I hate paperwork."

There was a soft chuckled on the other line, "Copy that, sir."

The chuckle sounded truly amused and Hawkeye's voice in general was nice, a little raspy and not too deep, or too high. Just perfect.

They remained silent for a long time before Hawkeye broke radio silence, "I'm sound and safe, sir. Heading back to HQ. And sir?"

"Yes, specialist?" Phil asked monotone.

"Thank you for saving my sorry ass, sir." The line went dead before Phil could reply.

"Agent Coulson," Carl put his hands on his hips and yelled, "Care to explain why the hell Hawkeye listens to you?"

"My charm," he deadpanned, hiding the fact that he was just as baffled, "get the cleaning crew ready. I have an appointment."

::::::::::::

"You," Fury stormed into Phil's office, pointing his finger at him, "I assign Hawkeye to you."

Phil caught the file Nick threw at him, "You have until tomorrow morning to look into the file before I come back with the kid."

Coulson had no chance to say anything at all.

He opened the thick file.

No pictures but many complaints and classified missions, he'd have loved to see a face to the voice.

The paper work wasn't in order and it seemed no one cared for the completeness of the file.

The man was an orphan. Circus artist. Three months in jail.

That was all they had about his past, that wasn't much at all.

His two former handler described him as coldhearted, sassy, sarcastic and calculating.

"Funny, that's what they say about me, except from sassy." Phil mumbled to himself, but in addition to that people associate with him fairness and conviction.

Psych evaluation seemed to be more than a sore spot for the archer and the doctors.

They described him as uncooperative and calculating.

They were sure he tells them what they wanted to hear but can't prove it.

He's playing with them for years, only on rare occasions he talked about a mission and what went wrong.

It seemed he had issues with his own personality.

He blamed himself for most things even though it was obvious that he was absolutely not at fault.

Three things S.H.I.E.L.D's psych department knew for sure about Hawkeye.

He had trust issues, commitment issues and a serious case of low self-esteem.

"And he's just 25." _How many issues will he have after a decade, or two, with S.H.I.E.L.D?_

Nick recruited Hawkeye when he was 20.

Nine different handlers during five years, not to mention all the handlers who borrowed him for a while. They shoved him back and forth between each other like a tool.

That was a bad sign and Phil hoped he wouldn't be one of them, the thought of pushing the kid around like a thing let his stomach churn.

But on the other hand he had enough to do without a sassy asset on his heel.

But he didn't sound that way when they communicated via earpiece.

_Maybe he just waited for an opportunity to strike? _

Phil closed the file and decided to go home, a headache was approaching and he absolutely didn't want to deal with Hawkeye on his team.

Hopefully he could give him back too after a few weeks, without too much remorse.

::::::::::

"Coulson," Fury entered without knocking. "Kid, get your ass in here," the director wasn't a patient man.

Phil looked from Nick to the door, the movement of a shadow caught his eye.

"Clint, now," Fury sighed. "He hates meeting strangers," the director shrugged.

Hawkeye strolled into the room with a blank face and cold eyes but that changed the moment he set eyes on the man behind the desk.

Phil was sure he wore the same expression of surprise and disbelief as his eyes locked with the beautiful ones that haunted his dreams. "Agent Barton," he greeted in his usual tone.

"Sir." Clint got a grip on himself.

So the famous Phillip Coulson was the man he was looking for all along.

"Phil, don't let him push you. Clint leave him in one piece, I like him." Nick looked from Phil to Clint before he left with a satisfied smile.

_That could work this time_, he whistled an old song on his way to his office.

"Sit down." Phil gestured at the chair in front of his desk.

Clint eyed the chair for a moment before he made a beeline for the couch in the corner of the room.

"Or take the couch," Phil deadpanned, "I'm your tenth handler, is that correct?"

Clint enjoyed Coulson's smooth voice.

"Yes, sir and the 21st I work with," give or take.

"Why?"

That surprised Clint "Why what?"

"Why is it impossible for you to work with one of us?"

"I worked okay with Brice," the archer shrugged.

"Early retirement, drinking problem." He alone had filed three of Barton's many complaints.

Clint only shrugged and remained silent, never taking his eyes off of the agent.

The archer loved Coulson's blue eyes and the way his voice sounded.

Just sitting here on the couch in the other man's office gave him an unfamiliar feeling of safety.

It was confusing but it gave him hope.

"How is your side?" the silence was uncomfortable so Phil asked the question that was burning on his soul for weeks.

"I'm here," Clint said nonchalantly.

The image of the young man bleeding out in his arms flashed in front of his eyes, "What have you done there?"

"Undercover op, mostly classified. Should be in there somewhere," he pointed sluggishly at the file that lay in front of Coulson.

Phil frowned the op wasn't in there and neither was his medical report, "Is there a second file of you somewhere out there?"

"Fury has one." Clint surprised himself by answering, the words just came out.

It wasn't like him to answer without thinking his answer through, no matter what people said every word was well chosen whether to keep people at distance or cooperate.

"And why do I get the incomplete one?" he was rather talking to himself than Barton.

"So you have to get to know me?"

Phil got up, "Let's start with getting to know each other then."

They walked to the firing range.

Phil's fellow colleagues gave him pitying glances, "So he's yours now?!" Hill asked while Clint vanished to get his bow.

"Seems so." Phil crossed his arms in front of his chest, resting his hip against a table.

"Don't let him get to you," she warned, "he will let you down faster than you can blink"

"I heard he does his job without risking his comrades lives."

"That might be true but I wouldn't get my hopes up, or you'll end like Brice."

"Barton turned him in?" that was a surprise.

"Yes." She nodded, Fury had Brice removed from his post before they even knew what was happening.

"He had his reasons," if Brice was truly a drunk then Barton had every right to turn him in.

Phil looked at Hill, raising a brow as Barton dropped from the ceiling and crouched behind her.

"Permission to show off, sir?" he finally said after he got up, startling Maria a little.

"Permission granted, agent." Phil gestured with one fluid motion at the targets.

Clint fired arrow after arrow, not missing once. No matter if the training target stood still or moved very fast.

Hell, the kid even hit without looking at it.

"I'm impressed." Coulson praised after Clint shot his last arrow.

There it was again, the surprised look in Barton's eyes as if no one ever bothered to tell him how good he was.

"Coffee?" Coulson offered, he noticed how the archer's back tensed for a moment.

"Sure, why not." Clint picked up his arrows and placed them carefully on a nearby table, checking each one for fissures.

After his routine he followed Coulson to the break room.

"You have no right to be here Barton." Agent Malone had been his fourth handler.

"Agent Coulson invited me for coffee," he stated matter of factly. Back straight, eyes cold.

Phil watched the young man closely, every move, every twinkle in his eye and weighing every word he speaks.

Something had happened between Barton and Malone, "Care to explain your issues with my asset?"

"He erodes my authority every time I have to work with him."

_Ah, that's the problem _"Are his accusations justified?"

"What? Of course not. I know what I'm doing." Malone gasped, he wasn't prepared for Coulson's harsh words.

"Barton?" he wanted to know what his asset was thinking.

"Sending two relatively new agents into a situation without proper backup is not wise, sir." No one ever cared for his opinion, except Nick.

"I'm with Barton on this one," the hint of pride on Barton's face sent a soft shiver down his spine.

"Ganging up with the enemy Phil?" Shannon smirked at him.

The glare Barton sent her was interesting but Phil pushed that thought to the back of his mind. "I'm ganging up with no one but I respect the opinion of my men, and when their arguments are reasonable and convincing I take their sides." Phil explained, more for Barton than his fellow handlers.

Respect that was a concept Clint wasn't familiar with. Respect wasn't a feeling he woke in people, rage and disgust was more likely.

Clint decided to keep his mouth shut for Coulson's sake, the man was kind of nice and didn't deserve to be embarrassed in front of his comrades.

"How do you drink your coffee?" Phil stood suddenly pretty close to him, it was hard not to jump.

"Black, sir."

"Black it is," there was a strange feeling of loss in his chest after Coulson left his comfort zone to get his coffee.

Normally it was Clint who had to get his handler's coffee.

Barton watched the older man preparing his coffee, memorizing how Coulson liked his own coffee.

"Thank you, sir." Stunned silence washed through the break room

Coulson frowned at the deafening silence the comment precipitated, "Follow me, agent. We have some paperwork to do concerning your transfer."

Clint was thankful for the way out of the situation and followed Coulson like a watch dog, just one step behind at his left side.

:::::::::::::::


	2. I think I fell in love

Two months passed and Coulson was still pleased with Barton's performance.

The young man was an exceptional agent, smart, quick and not at all cold as ice behind his pain in the ass act.

There was something between them that made their relationship different but Phil couldn't put his finger on it.

He suspected it had something to do with the way he treated the archer, the young man was probably not used to have a say in anything.

"What are you thinking about?" Clint let his gaze stray to Coulson for a moment.

"Just waiting for the foe to show up," he should have known the archer was watching him.

Phil often felt Clint's eyes on him, even when he couldn't see the archer.

"Getting bored, sir?"

"Yes." There was no use in lying to the archer.

"We could play something."

"What's ghosting through your mind?", he could hear the amusement in the archer's voice, mixed with a hint of insecurity.

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with ... H."

"Hill," Phil played along, he had noticed her presence fifteen minutes ago.

Why she was here was a riddle to him but she must have her reason "S."

"Sitwell." Clint smirked, they weren't good at hiding.

They continued the game until they identified every agent close by.

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with B." Clint let his arrow fly.

"Blood." Phil answered before the arrow even hit its target.

"You're good, sir."

"I know. Get your stuff and meet me in ten." Phil started his car and headed for the back of a mall to pick Clint up.

"Thanks for the ride, handsome." Clint hurried into the car, giving Phil a cheeky grin.

"Next time I let you walk."

"No you don't." One of the things Clint learned the past two months was that Phil Coulson never left a man behind.

A smirk tugged on the older agent's lips at the trust in his assets voice.

"Do you know why they're following us?" Clint asked after he soaked in the image of Coulson's barely visible smirk.

"I have no idea." Phil confessed.

"Probably making sure I don't get you killed."

"Stop that." Phil's tone was harsher than he intended.

Clint winced slightly at the tone, "Yes, sir."

"Stop talking about yourself that way." Phil was sure Clint didn't even know what he was talking about.

"What way?"

"Disregarding yourself, you're a great agent and I'm pretty sure you don't get me killed anytime soon," that was the truth.

"Why?" where did Coulson's trust in him come from?

"I read your mission reports and we worked seven ops together," they were working together for two months after all.

"That's a lot of trust, sir."

"I'm the one who sends you into dangerous situations with the knowledge that it could be your last. I have no right to judge you," he felt sick at the thought. Getting Clint killed was something he wanted to avoid at all cost.

"You send me in with the intention to get me out alive, that's much more than I'm used to." Clint stated, hiding the hurt from his voice but Phil picked up on it anyway.

"What have they done to you?", a little frown appeared on his stoic handler's face.

Clint rested his head against the passenger window and studied the world outside the car.

Phil was sure he wouldn't get an answer as Clint finally replied.

"See that kid?"

"The street kid?" he just stole a wallet and it was painfully obvious that the kid was a hustler.

The way he threw himself at an older man in a suit was not the way a minor greeted an adult.

_Such a shame_, he didn't look older than 15.

Clint remained silent.

"Is that you?", an icy feeling spread through his chest.

"Yes."

Coulson kept his thoughts to himself.

He wanted to kill these men and everyone who might have caused the way Clint had to live in any way.

The silence between them grew heavier with each passing minute.

Phil decided to end it, "I'm not telling anyone and I'm not judging you." He saw Clint relax next to him, it seemed it was the right thing to say.

"Can we get something to eat before we meet Nick for the briefing?" He wasn't ready yet.

"What would you like?" the older man never decreased to amaze him.

"The doughnut shop you like so much," it was Phil's turn to be surprised that the archer memorized his favorite shop.

"I treat you to dinner, after the briefing. Pizza and beer at my place."

"Deal." Clint's eyes lit up and Phil almost choked on his own breath that got stuck in his throat.

:::::::::::::

Meeting for food and beer grew into a habit and they met twice a week to spend the evening together.

They never spoke about personal stuff or serious work related topics.

They watched bad T.V. series and old movies while they shared a pizza and talked about how shitty the show was or what the rumor mill at work was spreading.

Coulson and Barton had become topic number one by now and it was kind of fun that way.

The agents got out of their way whenever they walked through the corridor or entered a room.

Why? They didn't know but it made their life a lot easier.

"God, I'm tired." Clint put a foot on top of the coffee table in Phil's living room.

"No wonder after 36 hours on the roof of a ten story building, while it rained and stormed," he was worried that Clint would get sick.

"Yeah, the thought of joining you in the car crossed my mind a few times," Clint sipped his beer.

"Remind me to get you better rain equipment, your jacket was drenched within the first hour." He had told them to provide their best gear for Barton but when that was the best they had to offer he had to file a few complaints against their scientists, or preferably get the losers fired.

"Not only the jacket," he was wet to the bone and needed a very long, hot shower to get the feeling in his limbs back.

The most embarrassing thing about it was that Coulson had dragged him under the shower, getting his precious suit wet in the process.

Holding him close and more importantly upright.

The older agent was friendly enough to strip everything but Clint's boxers.

The archer was sure he would have died of shame had Coulson seen him completely naked.

He was still happy he was so out of it that his traitorous body wasn't able to provide a boner.

"I considered to drag you to medical for a moment, in case you developed hypothermia."

"I would have escaped anyway." Clint huffed in amusement.

"I know." Phil sat down next to his archer.

Yes, somewhere along the way Barton became his archer.

He couldn't believe that they were working together for one year already.

"Oh." Clint got up from the couch startling Phil a little with his sudden movement.

The archer rummaged through his duffle bag, "Got it," he slumped down on the couch, "here."

Phil took the book out of Clint's hand. "Stress management for dummies," he smirked.

"No matter how calm you want us to think you are, you are not," the archer sniffed, "you don't have much to laugh."

"I don't know, I like your sarcasm." Phil returned his attention to the book, Barton was pretty damn funny.

"Nice to know," the archer's eyes lit up again. Phil loved that, being the cause for the happy twinkle felt great.

"Thank you," Phil placed the book on his left leg, holding it in place with one hand, "To tell the truth I feared being your handler would turn out much worse. I just have to put up with stupid comments from my colleagues."

"You saved me, even though you didn't know who I was," Clint got a faraway look, "You cared for me, I appreciate that." He took a huge swig from his bottle.

"I thought you were a civilian, and don't forget you saved my ass first." Phil tried to analyze his friend.

"Would you have done the same if you'd known I was Hawkeye?" lying on the ground with Phil's kind face hovering over him while his thumb stroke his temple was one of the fondest memories he had.

"Of course," Phil said offended, "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I'm a bother."

"Explain." Phil demanded an answer.

"I'm... ah hell, you know I'm not easy to handle. I give you your fair share of grey hair once in a while. They prefer easier assets." The underlying message was I have no idea why you put up with me anyway.

"I prefer assets with a mind of their own." Phil let his shoulder brush against Clint's.

"It's the reason I try not to turn your life into a living hell. You respect me, therefore I respect you." It was as simple as that.

_And I think I love you,_ that made it less simple.

"I like working with you," that was an understatement. Phil loved having the archer around.

He wasn't sure when exactly that happened but somewhere along the past months the archer stole his heart.

"Thank you Phil," _for everything._

::::::::::::

Phil looked at his phone for the third time in three minutes.

Clint was late, the archer was never late except he was angry at him but Phil was sure they parted on best terms the night before.

After two more restless minutes Phil decided to look for his friend.

He wasn't in the mess hall nor at the firing range.

Phil tried Clint's bunk next and here he was "Clint," he sounded worried.

Something was not right he could feel it.

"Barton." Phil sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket aside.

Clint's skin was clammy and flushed, the archer looked with glassy eyes at his handler, "'m I late?", his voice sounded hoarse.

"Yes," he replied, not expecting Clint to sit up like a flash, "Take it easy, you're sick."

Clint's whole world was spinning.

"Go back to sleep," Phil placed a hand on Clint's bare chest and pushed him gently back onto his back "I get you something against the fever." He rubbed with his hand a few times over Clint's chest.

"I'll sue,... your precious scientists and everyone, ... who has a hand in providing our equipment,... just so you know." Clint mumbled halfheartedly.

"Okay." Coulson agreed.

"Good," the archer closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Phil walked down to medical and ordered the first doctor he saw to check on Barton.

The doctor wasn't happy but followed suit, a sick Barton sucked big time an angry Coulson was literally torture.

The last doctor who dared to look at Barton the wrong way got a ticket for a field trip to Siberia.

"Your dear archer caught the flu. I send a nurse with his meds, make sure he takes them. I know he hates them but they're necessary. He should be fine in a few days. Make sure someone stays with him, I know it's not easy to find a person to watch him but he has to come with me to med bay and stay there otherwise."

"I stay with him." Phil said without thinking. The doctor wasn't surprised at all.

"Good, I inform the director. Call me if you need me," the doctor fled before Coulson could ask more questions.

Phil dragged the chair over to the bed and made himself comfortable.

The archer was still asleep, his breath was labored and Phil was sure he had nightmares.

"I'm here," Phil stroke through Clint's sweaty hair "You're not alone"

Clint relaxed after a while, leaning unconsciously into the soothing touch.

"Good, see, you're safe." Phil couldn't take his eyes off of his friend.

He looked so young and vulnerable that Phil couldn't suppress the urge to place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Phil." Clint mumbled, he loved the dream that Phil was touching him, that he had kissed him.

But it was just a dream, no one ever stayed with him when he was sick.

Being sick meant being alone.

"What are you dreaming about?", the gentle smile on Clint's face after the kiss had changed into a concerned frown, "I'll take care of you, do you hear me?", _you're no longer alone_.

Phil fell asleep on the uncomfortable chair and Clint used the chance to watch his handler.

He looked younger in his sleep and more at ease, not much but it was enough to erase the almost constant lines of worry around his eyes.

The older agent was beautiful in his own unique way. His smile and the twinkle in his eyes were absolutely breathtaking and Clint made it his goal to coax these reactions out of his friend.

Phil shifted a little and was obviously in pain, "Sir." Clint placed a hand on Phil's knee, shaking him gently, "Sir."

"Hm?", Phil opened his eyes and hissed as he tried to sit straight.

"Neck pain?"

"Yes," he rubbed his neck and tilted his head to stretch his sore muscles. "How are you?", Phil reached out to touch Clint's forehead.

Clint's heart fluttered, "Better."

"Good," a smile lit up Phil's face and he quirked a brow, "Why does the medical staff hate your guts? I had to drag your doc up here by the collar of his shirt." He pretty sure he knew the answer, he had seen Barton interact with the medical staff more than once.

"Not my fault they offer so many escape routes," Clint shrugged, "and I get a little cranky when I'm sick."

_But not around me_, Phil thought fondly, "Go back to sleep, you need more rest."

"You can sit on the bed with me, better for your neck." Clint was glad he had a fever and Phil couldn't see the blush that crept onto his cheeks.

Phil eyed the bed it wasn't big but it could work, he crawled onto the bed between Clint and the wall and leaned against the cold grey wall.

"You need an apartment," he blurted out.

"Why?", Clint asked sleepily.

"Your room is frustrating," grey, cold and impersonal.

"Just the way I'm used to." The archer's breath evened out and he snuggled closer against Phil's hip. The agent was so warm.

Phil placed a hand on Clint's head and returned his attention to his book, without much success. The archer's warm body against his was distracting and the warm feeling in his belly more than inappropriate but the lovely feeling in his heart was worth some of the pain pining for the archer's love caused.

"Sleep well." Phil's hand wandered from Clint's head to his shoulder and he held his archer close to his body, offering all the protection in the world.


	3. New addition to the team

:::::::::::

"Coulson we need you at the firing range." Maria called him.

"I'm on my way," he didn't ask why his presence was required but her voice told him that she was furious.

"Hill," he greeted.

"Keep your dog on the leash." She pointed at Clint who was engaged in a fist fight with a very tall and broad agent.

"Barton." Clint dodged the fist and rolled to the side, getting away from the guy.

The big man followed him and kicked him in the side, "The order includes you, too, shithead." The archer hissed after the pain subsided.

"What order? I only heard your handler call his doggy's name."

Phil could see the anger burning in Clint's eyes but the archer stayed put, obeying the unspoken order.

"It seems you are the one who has no control over your asset." Phil directed at Maria.

Clint didn't put up a fight as the big guy tackled him to the ground after Clint muttered 'asshole'.

The archer lay underneath the other agent, who had his huge hands around his neck, waiting for orders.

Phil could see how Clint's breath quickened and his body tensed, "Get off of my agent."

_Get your dirty paws off of him, god knows what he's seeing right now. A john maybe?_

The guy ignored Coulson's order and began to put pressure on Clint's neck, "Barton." That was the okay to fight back.

Clint kicked him with the knee before he slammed his elbow in the man's face.

He got up and occupied his place at Phil's side.

Coulson felt Clint relax next to him, "Move and I shoot you." The older agent pointed his gun at the man who looked like he was ready to pounce on Clint any moment.

"Grimes, back off." She knew Phil never made empty threats.

"Yes, ma'am," he gritted out, "Permission to leave?"

She nodded her consent. "What was that all about?", the question was directed at Clint.

The archer shrugged nonchalantly.

"Answer her." Phil turned around to get a better look at Clint's injuries.

Bruised jaw, black eye, split lip and fingerprints on his neck. The guy was strong, leaving such marks on the archer's neck.

He reached out and raised Clint's shirt to reveal a boot shaped bruise on his left side.

Clint enjoyed the feeling of Phil's fingertips against his skin. The agent's fingers were warm and gentle.

A shiver ran down his spine and he hoped Phil would misread it for pain and not arousal.

"Don't worry, sir. I'm fine," he said playfully, voice a little hoarse. The worry in the older man's eyes warmed his whole being.

"Need you in one piece, Barton." Phil took his hands away from Clint's soft skin.

It shouldn't be so hard to break skin contact but it was.

He wanted nothing more than tracing his fingers along Clint's jaw line. Kissing his soft looking lips and each finger print on his neck, "You owe us an answer." _Get a grip on yourself Phil._

"He insulted you, sir." Clint tried to stand straight but his bruised side made it painful.

"What did he say?", it felt better than it should to know that Barton was defending his honor.

"He called you an idiot, sir. Too stupid to see that the whole agency is laughing at you." Clint clenched his jaw despite the pain.

"That's the reason you hit him?"

"Yes, sir," and he would do it again. "No one calls you an idiot."

"Why is the agency laughing at me?" Phil studied Clint's features, the sudden indifference in his eyes caught his attention.

Phil knew that look, it appeared every time Clint felt sad, "What are they saying about you?"

Clint chuckled, his boss knew him too well "I'm playing with you, twisting the mighty Agent Coulson around my finger for my benefit."

"Are you?"

"No." Clint looked truly offended by the question.

"Don't listen then." Phil's eyes spoke volumes.

_Don't let them get to you. You're not who they think you are but I know._

"Understood." Clint was grateful for having Phil in his life.

"I file a complaint against you and your agent after Barton visited medical." Coulson gave Maria his best agent look.

Clint fell in love all over again, Phil was just an awesome person.

"Come on Phil," she put her hands on her hips. "It was just a brawl."

"You called me to break up the brawl, complaining about my agent, that makes it official." Phil motioned Clint to follow him.

That would be the second complained he filed against fellow agents for Clint's sake.

The first one was when Maria took it upon herself to stalk his team, one time was okay, two times annoying, the third was one too much.

She wanted to know how his team worked? How to handle Agent's like Hawkeye? Then she had to ask.

"That was stupid." Phil sighed after they were out of earshot.

"I know, but I couldn't help it."

"Don't do it again." That was an order.

"Yes, sir." Clint knew he would be in serious trouble should something like that happen again.

:::::::::::::

"What the hell were you thinking?" Phil lost his calm attitude the moment they were alone.

"We need someone like her."

"I told you to kill her. Not taking her in like a stray." he seethed.

"She needs a place to stay."

"Yeah, a sweet little coffin six feet under on the other side of the planet."

"She deserves a chance."

"It's not on you to decide such things."

"But it's on you?", Clint yelled back "Who gives you the right to sentence her to death?"

"She is a danger for our agency."

"I'm a danger, too," god knew on how many assassination lists his name was, "She could have killed me but she didn't."

"Give me one good reason not to throw you out?", Phil got his voice under control.

The low and dangerous voice Phil used on him let Clint's heart clench.

Phil wanted to throw him out. Putting him back into the roster for assets nobody wants.

That hurt, a lot. He loved the man with all he had and Phil wanted to get rid of him for having his own mind. Wasn't an own mind what Phil liked? _Liar. _

Clint turned around and left the room , he couldn't stand being around Phil while he was so angry at him.

Phil stared at the closing door in shock, no one ever walked out on him while he was in a sour mood.

"Nick?", Clint peeked into Fury's office.

"Barton." The archer winced, that was a bad sign.

"I'm sorry but I couldn't." Clint made himself comfortable on the comfy armchair to the right of Nick's desk, "She's lost, not happy there at all."

"She is an assassin." Fury stated the obvious, it was her job to twist people around her finger.

"There was truth in her eyes the moment she faced death and accepted it. She's like me."

That got Nick's attention.

"She had a hard time," he could feel it.

"What if you're wrong. What if you brought the devil into your home?", Nick rubbed his face.

"You took me in. Bailed me out of jail and offered me a life," he still wasn't sure why.

"You needed a place to stay. You had the right intentions and your skill set is more than useful." Fury shrugged, he felt the urge to protect the kid since the day they met.

Maybe because Clint reminded him of himself when he was a young man.

"She's useful, too. Please, Nick just this once," the archer nibbled on his bottom lip.

"Let me think about it," the director said gruffly.

That was the hint for Clint that their conversation was over and it was better for him to leave.

"Sir," ten minutes after Clint left Phil entered his office.

_Why was it so difficult to knock? _

"What can I do for you?", he took a deep annoyed breath.

"What are we doing with Miss Romanova?"

"Natasha Romanoff." Nick corrected, she told him that Natalia Romanova was dead, she died the day an armed S.H.I.E.L.D agent broke into her room.

Phil nodded, "Barton wants to keep her."

"I know. She wants to work with Barton, in case we let her live. She has no illusion about our intentions."

"We could give her a chance," Phil offered even though jealousy was burning in his veins.

"Are you sure you want one more nutcase on your team?"

He'd put up with anything for Clint, "Yes."

"Okay," she could live, for now. "She has to absolve her rookie training first. One month."

"Thank you, sir." he hoped it wasn't a mistake.

::::::::::::::

Phil's and Clint's working relationship was tense.

"Listen Barton." Phil tried but the archer cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it, sir if it's not work related."

"I'm sorry how things between us turned out last week," he truly was. Clint's silent treatment was pure torment.

He couldn't even feel the archer's eyes on him and he stopped lurking around the air duct above Phil's office.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I was out of line, ... should be happy you kept me after all."

The realization hit Phil like a ball to the head.

It wasn't about their argument concerning Natasha, it was about his place on the team.

Clint was hurt that Phil thought about kicking him out.

"I was angry. I don't want you off the team. They would just give you back anyway," he tried the truth combined with some humor.

"Maybe I want to," of course he didn't, he'd rather die than leave Coulson's side.

"I won't let you." Phil's tone indicated that he was dead serious about not letting him go.

"Give me one reason to stay," it was a dirty move to throw Phil's words back at him but to see the pain on the other man's face was sickly satisfying for a short moment.

"I agreed to take Miss Romanoff under my wings," his jealousy was returning full force.

"What?", the surprise in Clint's hopeful eyes intensified his hate for the woman.

"We grant your wish," Phil repeated.

The archer looked at his handler for a long time before a huge smile appeared, "You're awesome, sir."

Phil felt how his heart skipped a beat, he wanted to kiss the younger man so badly, "I know." He forced a smirk on his face instead.

"I mean it Phil, thank you." Clint pulled Phil into a brief hug before he left.

He had to get out of the room or else he would jump his boss and kiss him senseless.

Phil took a shaky breath while he watched his asset go. He missed Clint's arms around him, the archer's strong body against his own.

It was the first time in Phil's life that he cursed himself for being gay.

Falling for a straight man was hell.

"Time to go home and jerk off," he muttered under his breath, not knowing that Clint returned to his bunk with the same thought in mind.

:::::::::::::::

"He's uptight." Natasha successfully survived her first week on Team Coulson.

"You get used to it." Clint cleaned his gun.

"Is he a good man?"

"Yes," the archer smiled at her, "Don't let his aloof attitude fool you. He's a childish and funny guy underneath his mask."

"You like him."

"He saved my life," he hadn't thought about their first meeting for a long time, "We're safe with him."

He sounded so confident that she decided to believe in him.

"Get your stuff, we're leaving." Phil didn't bother to knock, finding them in a compromising position would finally end his inner torment.

"Yes, sir." Clint put his weapon back together and took his bag, "Where are we going?"

"Bolivia."

"Great," Clint spat, "I hate Bolivia"

"Why?", Natasha raised a brow at his outburst.

"Bolivia and I have some differences."

"How can you have differences with a country?"

"He's Hawkeye, he has differences with anyone and anything," they could hear the smirk in their handler's voice.

The flight was boring, the mission messy and the aftermath hazardous.

"Told you we don't like each other." Clint hissed in pain as Phil bandaged his leg.

Natasha stood next to the window of their hiding place, watching out for threats but some of her attention was fixed on his two teammates.

"Not Bolivia's fault you left your nest and got shot in the leg. I told you to stay put."

"And let you get shot?", _no way_.

"You're a valuable asset."

"You're S.H.I.E.L.D's best handler, what are we outcasts supposed to do without you?", Phil was their last hope and he proved that he was worth their trust.

"Outcasts?", Phil deadpanned, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach as best he could.

"What else would you call us? No one wants me, no one wants our Widow." That got her attention.

"Idiot," Coulson muttered and increased the pressure on the bullet wound.

"Damn, love you too, sir." His words dripped with sarcasm.

Phil wished so much they were true.

"They're coming," Natasha raised her gun, "we should leave."

Phil put Clint's arm around his shoulder and dragged him out of the house.

They had 200 miles ahead of them before they had a chance to call a rescue team.

Barton was a tough SOB but even he had his limits, "We need a pause." Phil tightened his hold around the archer.

"I think they lost our trace," or else all the beelines and detours would have been for naught.

"Sit down," Phil lowered Clint to the ground "Let me see," he opened his backpack to get new dressing material.

The bleeding didn't stop and the wound seemed infected.

_That's bad,_ "90 miles, can you do that?" Phil grabbed Clint's chin, forcing the archer to look at him, "I need the truth."

Clint nodded. "90, can do that," he had to or else Coulson would die with him.

The older agent would do anything to get them out of there, together.

"We should leave him behind." Natasha said, it wasn't her intention to leave Barton behind.

It was a test for her handler.

"No," the determination in his voice took her by surprise, "No one gets left behind."

"He gets us killed."

"Then we die as a team, but you can leave if you want," he glared at her.

He frowned at the sudden change in her mood.

"That's all I need to know." Barton was right, the man was special.

"She tricked you," Clint laughed. "She's good," he believed her for one moment.

"She wouldn't be on the team otherwise." Phil dressed the wound after cleaning it.

"I feel sick, sir." His world was spinning, he turned to the side and emptied his stomach.

Coulson rubbed his back, "90." He repeated, clenching his jaw.

He hated it, the whole op was shit.

Clint put a hand on Phil's shoulder, squeezing it "90." _We can do it. We're back home in no time. I trust you._

"We should leave." Natasha slipped under Clint's arm and helped him up together with Coulson.

The last 90 miles were hell but they made it, alive.

Phil was proud of Clint and told him so.

The young man had blushed, turning his fever flushed skin even redder.

"Don't leave." Clint grabbed Phil's hand as the medics ordered Phil to stay back.

"I'm not leaving," Phil promised, "I have to grant them some space but I will not leave, okay?"

Clint squeezed his hand even tighter for one long moment before he let go, following Phil's every move with his eyes.

The medics hooked him up on an IV and promised that his condition wasn't critical at the moment.

Phil could still feel Clint's hand on his while he watched the paramedics do their job.

He wanted nothing more than hold his friend's hand and whisper sweet nothings to sooth his fears.

"He told me you're trustworthy." Natasha appeared to his right, "He was right. I want to inform you that I offer you my loyalty, sir."

Phil gave her a puzzled look, "After all this?", he spread his arms to emphasize the underlying meaning. _I messed up. We almost died, I almost got you killed._

"Yes," she nodded, "You don't know someone until shit hit the fan."

"He's rubbing off on you." Phil huffed wearily, he felt so tired.

"Is that a bad thing, sir?"

"No," Phil smiled at her and then at Clint, "not at all."

:::::::::::::

Watching Clint interact with Natasha was painful.

He'd never thought being in love could hurt so god damn much.

The smile he directed at her, the lingering touches and the conspiracy looks.

He loved and hated that woman.

She was a good asset and he grew fond of her, he would go so far and say they had become friends but on the other hand she was attracting all of Clint's attention.

Phil wasn't used to share Clint and when he was honest he wanted to treasure up all his attention.

"You really like him." Nick interrupted his thoughts.

"He's a good agent."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know that."

"We're friends," it felt strange to say it out loud.

"He needs friends and love." Fury watched Clint play 'scare the juniors' with Natasha.

"He has her," his voice sounded bitter even in his own ears.

"She's a friend. Women aren't dangerous to be around. Okay she is, but she's still a woman."

"What do you mean?", Phil frowned.

"Let me show you something." Fury straightened his back and thrust the file he held into Phil's hands before he walked over to Clint and Natasha.

Yelling at them for screwing up Hill's op the day before, even though Maria's plan had been lousy and she deserved the mockery in front of her men.

Nick stood close to Clint and with a sudden out of nowhere gesture he made the archer flinch, ducking away his head to avoid being hit in the face, even though it was obvious from afar that Nick never intended to let his hand anywhere near the archer's face.

Phil narrowed his eyes, _child abuse_, he raged inwardly, _in addition to sex with strangers._

Fury's features softened while he talked to Clint, explaining that he had to scold him or people would think he was favoring the archer. He did but people didn't need to know that.

Barton relaxed and Natasha backed off, she was ready to pounce on the director.

Fury gave Phil a meaningful look before he left.

Coulson remembered the file he was still holding and inspected it closer.

It was Barton's file, much bigger and at a first glance, complete.

"Barton." Phil hid the file in his briefcase.

"Yes, sir?", his voice sounded insecure.

Clint wasn't comfortable with the fact that Phil had seen his reaction to Nick's yelling.

"Come with me." Coulson's eyes were gentle.

Clint followed the older man into his office, "What do you want?", he felt scared.

"Nick gave me your file," he wasn't sure how to approach the subject.

"And?"

"I want your permission to look at it."

"You what?", that was new.

"I'm sure your file contains material you might not be comfortable sharing with me." It wouldn't be fair to read the file without Barton knowing about it.

"As long as it's just you," _you have a right to know after everything you've done for me._

"Thank you for the trust," the expression on Phil's face took Clint's breath away.

He beamed at him with a mix of gratefulness and joy.

"You earned it," the archer plopped down onto the couch, drawing up his knees before he wrapped his arms around them. He watched Coulson like a Hawk, analyzing every jerk of a muscle.

Phil knew he should probably feel something close to nervousness under Clint's stare but all he felt was a feeling of security.

"You're reckless." Phil sighed, "Is there a bone in your body you have not broken at least once?"

"My thick skull, sir." Clint was glad that Phil didn't comment on his life before he joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

"I hope it stays that way," that was an order.

"Will do my best, sir."

"Your best to break it or keep it in one piece?", Phil raised a brow studying the surprised expression on his archer's face.

After the joke sunk in Clint started to laugh, it was a true one not one of the faked ones most people got, "You're totally awesome, sir."

That filled Phil with pride, "I know."

Clint laughed even harder, he loved it when Phil dropped his agent act and showed him the real Phil Coulson.

He loved Phil Coulson with all his heart, the agent, his handler, his friend, his lifeline, his treasure.

Phil's smile widened while he listened, he loved the sound of Clint's voice when he laughed.

It was honest, soothing and warm.

The sparkle in his eyes betrayed how much the archer cared for people he liked.

Clint Barton was a caring, self-sacrificing young man with a past no one should have.

He probably got along with Brice because he was a drunk and Clint had learned on an early age how to handle drunks. Keep quiet, duck and hide.

Phil loved the archer with all his quirks and flaws, his intelligence was stunning considering he never made it to college.

He possessed a wisdom only life could teach you.

A wisdom a man his age shouldn't possess.

Phil realized that he would never love anyone the way he loved his archer.

He had given too much of his heart away to ever get it back, "Pizza and beer?"

"Can I choose the T.V. show?", Clint asked with glee.

"Sure." Phil agreed.

Two hours later they sat on Phil's couch, eating pizza, drinking beer and watching 'The new adventures of old Christine'.

::::::::::::::

The rumors about Clint using Coulson got out of hand and a few agents took it upon themselves to protect their colleague from the freedom sucking leech.

The archer had by far too much freedom for their liking, he did as he pleased and Coulson wasn't lifting a finger.

"Where's your owner?"

Clint ignored the statement, he'd promised Phil to behave after his encounter with Grimes.

A second agent pushed Clint against the wall holding him in place with a firm hand, "One wrong move and we will make sure you'll never manipulate him again. Got it?"

Clint nodded, biting his tongue to keep his mouth shut.

"He likes you, god knows why, but we know better than trusting you," the agent hissed.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you." Clint couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore.

They hated him because he had something they would never have.

A boss who respected him, who cared for him.

"Ever considered that he's friendly to keep you happy?"

Actually he did but he came to the same conclusion over and over again.

Phil Coulson was not a liar and he did not use emotions to control his agents.

Phil was his friend because he liked Clint Barton.

"You don't know him at all," the archer gave him a smug grin, "He's nothing like you and me. He's special."

Both agents gave him a confused glance before they let go of him, "We keep an eye on you," the first said.

"Do that." Clint strolled out of the room, they would never find what they were looking for because Clint would never use Phil in such a way.

"Where have you been?", Phil wasn't as patient as he wanted people to believe.

"Was held up in the break room," he said nonchalantly.

"Something important?", he could read Clint like an open book.

"No." Clint smiled at him, "I'll take the blame for letting Nick wait." He opened the door to the meeting room.

"It _is_ your fault." Phil huffed in annoyance but Clint could hear the hidden amusement.

:::::::::::::

"Report." Phil's voice echoed through the earpiece.

"Target not in sight." He was glad that Phil was talking to him, even one word was better than nothing.

Clint wasn't sure what he did to make Phil so angry.

The morning had been like any other morning.

He'd had seen Natasha off who had a solo mission in Prague and after that they went straight to their own destination.

The silence was getting to Clint, he hated it with passion.

He needed Phil's calm voice like the air to breath.

_Cheesy_, Clint chided himself but it was true nonetheless.

"Sir, I...", Phil cut him off, "Radio silence."

Phil could hear a strangled noise on the other end of the line.

Clint felt like someone punched him in the gut, taking his breath away and letting his body tense with pain.

He felt like crying, _stupid, stupid, stupid_, Clint yelled inwardly at himself, _he's just pissed not_ _the first time it happens_, but it hurt more each time.

Phil couldn't get rid of the image of the gentle kiss the archer had placed on Natasha's cheek and the flirty smile he got in return.

He knew it was wrong to punish his agent with silence, especially because he wasn't at fault.

It was not his fault Phil was seething with jealousy.

It wasn't his fault Phil's heart ached painfully at the memory.

He could blame absolutely nothing on the archer.

Clint couldn't stand the silence any longer, he couldn't stand being ignored, not from Phil.

"Hill is sleeping with Sitwell."

Phil frowned at the info. "Radio silence," but Clint didn't listen.

"They say they got together during their last shared op. Ruiz blew his last op, he accidently dropped the remote for the bomb they'd placed inside the building. Almost lost three agents, luckily they were clever enough to run the moment they placed it. Amando cheated on Jeannie, all S.H.I.E.L.D women are against him at the moment. Carol spit in his coffee, I didn't tell him of course. He deserved it," he went on and on and on with all the gossip he heard over the past few days.

His voice held no emotion, he just rattled the gossip out.

Phil warned him for the third time to shut up but he wouldn't listen.

That was knew and shocked Phil more than he let on.

Barton never disobeyed his orders, of course he fought them at times to live up to his reputation but he never flat out refused to listen after three warnings.

"Radio silence, Agent." Phil warned a fourth time.

"The sentence is getting lame, Coulson," his tone was hard.

Phil flinched.

Barton rarely called him Coulson and much less with that tone of voice.

"Watch out for the target and stop talking."

"Getting on your nerves, agent?"

"Yes." That was not true, he wasn't getting on his nerves with his babbling.

Clint was hurting him with his behavior and Phil was hurting himself even more with the knowledge that he provoked the old Hawkeye to show up.

He never met the man before, whom his colleagues despised so much that they refused to save him at times.

"Too bad." Clint mocked before he continued to ignore Phil's order to shut the fuck up.

"Target is approaching." Phil had given up to order radio silence thirty minutes ago.

Clint snapped his mouth shut, "They're not alone." He had more bodyguards than planned and they weren't taking the route their informant predicted, "I suspect your man is dead, agent."

Phil knew Clint was right, their undercover agent was dead by now.

"Too many people, abort, I repeat abort mission." Phil ordered.

His earpiece went dead silent, "Hawkeye? Hawkeye!", he panicked.

Clint got off the roof and blended in with the civilians around the target.

He had bribed a homeless person with ten dollars to get his Whisky, he rinsed his mouth with it and poured some on his clothes.

The target chose a crowded shopping mile.

Children, women, parents, grandparent. He was using all of them as living shields without their knowledge.

Clint pulled the slim blade out of its hiding place in his pants and bumped accidently into a guard and then against the mark.

"Watch where you're going," a sturdy man yelled at him, "Damn drunk."

"schorr-y," he raised a hand in defeat and stumbled. Clint used the moment the target and one bodyguard collapsed to vanish in the crowd.

The shock on his men's faces was priceless.

Clint returned to the roof to get his weapons.

Phil jumped out of his car and ran as fast as he could to the building Clint used as a nest.

He tapped impatiently with his foot while the elevator poked along.

The old woman he startled as he rushed out the elevator was still cursing loudly as he opened the door to the roof.

It was empty. "Barton?", he looked around, a tight knot formed in his stomach.

Clint's rifle caught his eye, next to the rifle lay his earpiece or rather what was left of it.

Seemed someone had stomped on it.

Phil got down and used the scope of the rifle to observe the surrounding.

_Where is he? _

He spotted Clint close to the target, too close to the target.

Stumbling like he did when he was plastered. That happened not often but sometimes he drank himself into oblivion. Mostly after very bad ops.

Phil picked up the habit to care for Clint afterwards and Clint let him fuss over him, and then both men pretended nothing ever happened.

Coulson felt his heart stop for a moment as one of the guards addressed Clint but to his surprise nothing happened.

He couldn't believe Clint got away with it.

Killing the target in front of his guards without getting himself killed.

Phil stood up, brushing the dust off his suit. "What were you thinking?", he hissed as the door opened.

"Got the job done." Clint stated matter of factly, hiding the slight surprise to see Coulson on the roof.

"You're suspended for a week." Phil did his best not to blow up.

_Breath Phil, breath, in and out, in and out, calm down. _

"I could use some spare time." Clint replied, suspending him for a week was a lousy punishment for what he did.

Phil clenched his jaw, glaring at Clint for a long time, "Let's roll." He gritted out not looking if Clint was following him or not.

He had split feeling about the whole disaster.

On the one hand he wanted to punch the archer for scaring him and being a pain in the ass, on the other hand he wanted to take him into his arms and never let him go for scaring him and being reckless.

He couldn't deal with it, not now, probably never.

::::::::::::::

Two days after their fallout Phil found a cup of his favorite coffee and a package of doughnuts on his desk.

He was sure Clint left it for him, he hadn't seen the young man since he suspended him.

Phil had sent Natasha to find him, after two hours she told him that she couldn't find him.

It was a lie, he knew it and she knew that Phil knew it.

So he tried to find Clint on his own but he was nowhere to be seen.

Not in his room, not at the firing range and not once in the mess hall.

The only thing he knew for sure was that Barton was still on base.

A strong feeling of being watched made his hair stand on end. "Clint?", Phil looked up at the grid.

He couldn't see the archer or hear any movement but he was sure Clint was up there, "I'm sorry, too."

The last two days had been hell.

Phil missed the archer dearly. "I vent my bad mood on you. I'm sorry," now he understood the meaning behind sorry seems to be the hardest word.

He felt like they broke up, silly really, but he couldn't help it. He was in love after all.

"Sorry for annoying you," he heard a soft voice from above.

"You scared the hell out of me." Phil confessed, "I thought they caught you, or you get yourself killed to pay me back for being an ass."

"Does that mean you're not sending me away?"

"No, who told you that?", he would kill that person.

"Hill, she never saw you so angry before." Clint felt guilty for making Phil feel that way.

"Don't listen to her. I'm not throwing you out for something like that." He started the whole mess after all.

"I'm glad." Clint whispered but Phil heard it nonetheless.

"Welcome home." Phil wasn't sure why he said it but it felt right and it was true.

"Home." Clint left the air duct, "Is that what it is?"

"If you want to." _I'd give you the world if I could. _

The archer smiled warmly before he occupied his favorite place on the couch, "There is no place like home."

"Get some sleep." Phil ordered gently, the bags under Clint's eyes showed his lack of sleep.

"Yes, sir." Clint made himself comfortable and fell asleep within minutes.

Phil watched his archer sleep for a long time before he sorted through the stack of files on his desk with a happy smile on his face.

Natasha peeked into the room after a few hours, "Dinner." She pushed the door open with her hip and placed a tray on her handler's desk, "He needs food." She said simply before she sneaked out of the room.

_When was the last time you ate?_ Phil got up from his chair and crouched down next to the sofa. He wanted so much to confess his undying love but it could end what little they had.

Phil couldn't bear the thought of losing his archer.

"Clint," he shook his archer gently, "Clint, dinner is ready."

Clint mumbled something incoherently and took Phil's hand.

The agents eyes widened, his heart raced in his chest, slamming painfully against his ribcage "Clint." His voice sounded shaky.

Clint pretended to sleep a little longer, squeezing Phil's warm hand.

He needed the contact, he needed to know he didn't lose his agent due to the stunt he pulled.

The hitch in Phil's breathing was promising but he couldn't risk their friendship.

If friendship was all they'd ever have than he would gladly take it. It was by far better than nothing at all.

It was time to let go of Phil's hand "Phil?", Clint moved his hand from Phil's hand to his own face to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

The warm look Phil gave him while he did that was adorable.

"Natasha brought us dinner," the older agent got up to arrange the dishes on the desk.

Clint took the seat opposite Phil and they started to eat in silence.

The atmosphere was comfortable and relaxing.


	4. Evil mastermind

::::::::::::::

To their fellow agents surprise the evil-trio was back together and scarier than before.

Clint had taken his rightful place at Phil's right side while Natasha belonged on his left, since the day she joined.

Phil had torn Hill a new one for misinforming his agent and threatened to let her 'disappear' should something like that happen again.

Natasha had scared Sitwell away who wanted to talk to Coulson about his favorite asset.

He wanted to borrow Barton for a while, that was a no go.

"Agent Coulson, sir." Barton slipped into his perfect little soldier role.

The council sent two investigators to make sure S.H.I.E.L.D was working correctly and Clint would be damned if he embarrassed Phil in front of them.

"General Grayson, sir. Admiral Cole, sir." He stood ramrod straight.

"Nice to see someone tamed you." Grayson grinned, he liked Barton. Everyone who pissed agent Hill and director Fury off was a hero in his book.

"He isn't that hard to handle." Phil felt the urge to defend his archer.

"Agent Coulson is the best and I want to remain under his command." Clint praised.

Phil could feel the heat in his ears.

"I heard a lot about your team Agent Coulson. Hawkeye and Black Widow, that's very impressive. Your success quotient is unbeaten. Sadly that applies to your near death experiences also." Grayson looked at Clint.

"Surviving isn't part of our job description, sir. Every mission could be our last," it was a fact and Phil had to swallow at Clint's statement.

He remembered the fear in the archer's eyes the first time they met. Phil hadn't seen it since then.

There was just hope and trust in the archer's eyes whenever he got hurt.

"True." Cole nodded in agreement, "I've sent many kids to death. Knowing they didn't stand a chance."

"Our chance of surviving with Agent Coulson by our side is pretty high, sir." Natasha stopped next to Clint, mirroring his posture.

"Why is that?", Cole appreciated loyalty.

"He cares for his assets. We aren't tools in his eyes," Natasha explained.

"Tools do not know loyalty. Humans do." Clint finished for her, impressing Cole and Grayson even more.

"I wish we had more people like you in our ranks." Cole patted Phil on the back.

"Stay safe." Grayson ordered hopefully before they left.

Phil exhaled loudly, "I thought they'd never leave."

"They love you, sir." Clint's familiar smirk returned.

"Who doesn't?", Nat smirked knowingly as Clint's ears turned beet red.

_Is he blushing?_ Phil's eyes were glued to his archer's face.

"It's impossible not to love our stoic leader." Clint joked, covering his embarrassment.

"Oh, I feel so loved." Phil put a hand above his heart while the sarcasm dripped from his words.

"Always, sir." Clint flashed him a smile.

Phil gasped for air, "I want my poster boy back," he sighed dramatically "you were so cute just five minutes ago."

Clint blushed even harder.

Phil cheered inwardly at the triumph, it wasn't his imagination after all.

Two years and it seemed he finally found a hint to his question.

"You're naughty, sir." The archer shook his head, "Who wants some Vodka?"

Natasha was the first to voice her agreement, followed by Phil.

He could use a drink after what he'd just discovered.

All the glances, flirty jokes and accidently touches might not have been so unintentional after all.

::::::::::::

All three of them were absolutely plastered.

Natasha slept on Phil's living room floor while Clint slept with his head in Phil's lap.

The older agent fell asleep on his couch, his head rested against the backrest.

"Interesting," Nick pulled out his phone and took a picture before he woke his agents rather ungentle "Director on deck," he yelled.

Natasha sat up so fast she had to crawl over to the trashcan to puke.

Clint almost fell from the couch as Phil sat upright.

Luckily Phil had even shitfaced the best reflexes of them all, "Clint." He put his arms around the younger man holding him in place until Clint slid down the couch to sit in front of it.

"Thank you, sir." The archer squeezed his eyes shut a few times in hope the room stopped turning.

Nick had made a few more photos in the meanwhile.

"It's our day off. Isn't it?", Phil had trouble to remember his schedule, "and what are you doing in my apartment?"

Clint tilted his head back to look at Phil.

The older agent looked adorable with his messy hair and rumpled shirt.

"Something came up last night." Nick was torn between smirking or looking serious, "but I think that can wait until tomorrow morning."

"Spill it and then get out of here." Clint's brows almost hit his hairline as his handler grumbled at Fury.

The director didn't seem to mind.

"Dr. Redcliff, scientist and nutcase. He appeared on our radar a few months ago and our analyst are sure they found his trace. He abducts couples with special gifts to experiment on them. We found six dead couples the past four months. We have to stop him and that fast" Nick waved with a file "Read it and report to me tomorrow morning 0600."

"Yes, sir." Clint gave Nick a sloppy salute.

The director shook his head while he left the apartment, muttering something close to "Homicidal maniacs."

"Here." Natasha appeared next to them with two large bottles of water and a family pack Aspirin.

"Thanks, Nat." Clint snatched the water and pills out of her hand "Here, sir." He had opened the cap of the bottle and offered it to his handler together with two pills.

"Thank you." Phil watched while Clint waited until he had taken his pills and drank a lot of water before he did the same. _Mother-hen_, Phil thought fondly.

"Your shower is mine." Natasha vanished.

"No more Vodka, ever." Clint groaned.

Phil stroke through the archer's hair "Me neither."

Clint leaned into the touch, the last time Phil did that was when he had the flu.

"I feel so shitty." Clint let out a long suffering breath, "Do you think he will show the pictures around?", he felt Phil tense.

"Hopefully not, and if he does... let's say our revenge will be, tremendous."

"Sounds like a plan, sir." Clint cocked his head until his temple rested against Phil's knee.

"Where is the remote control?"

"Wait." Phil bent forward to get it, "What do you want to see?", his stomach was very upset with him.

"Doesn't matter." As long as it was distracting.

"Doctor Who?"

"Yep, distracting enough." Clint concentrated on Phil's gentle hands in his hair while he pretended to watch T.V.

Something had shifter in their relationship but confessing his love was still a bad idea.

What if their relationship didn't last? What if they started to hate each other? There was a time his parents were in love with each other until their world crashed in.

Phil had similar thoughts while he played with his archer's hair.

There was more between them than met the eye but it was too dangerous to approach the topic further.

"Who's next?", Natasha strolled into the room, giving them a broad unfamiliar smile.

"Go," Phil ruffled Clint's hair, "I can wait"

"Thank you, sir." The archer got up and hurried to the bathroom to jerk off as soon as possible.

"Is it really enough?", she had talked to Clint about the topic a long time ago and she was sure the reason behind Coulson's reluctance was the same.

"I don't know what you mean?", he stared at the T.V.

Natasha curled up next to Phil, "You could have so much more."

"And we could lose it all." The older agent rubbed his hand over her bare upper arm, she was like a sister to him.

"You could lose that, too," one of them could die, or find someone who was willing to enter a relationship.

"Being a fling for him is something I would not survive." His heart would break and never mend again. He would start to hate the archer.

"You're not," she was sure of that, "We never had sex."

Phil felt relieved but blushed at the info, "I'm not sure I want to know what exactly the two of you are doing."

"Nothing," she pushed further, "We never had sex or made out. He isn't interested in me, and I'm glad for that. I love him like a brother not like a lover."

Phil was glad, too. Very glad indeed.

"I still think it's a bad idea," he knew that Clint was attracted to him but did the archer love him?

"Your turn, sir." They stopped talking the moment they heard the bathroom door open.

Phil felt a twitch in his groin as Clint entered the room.

He adored how the archer's muscles flexed as he put on his shirt. His wet spiky hair let him look even more adorable.

Phil smelled his shampoo on Clint as he passed by, "Geez." The agent sighed after he closed the bathroom door. He had a serious hard-on by now.

He imagined Clint's strong hands on him while he lathered his body.

Phil felt like a horny teenager, he never came so hard and fast just from jerking off under the shower.

He really wanted to know how the real deal would feel.

For one brief moment he thought about what Natasha had told him and if sex was worth the risk.

No, it wasn't.

Having the archer around and happy was worth the eschewal of a deeper relationship.

::::::::::::::

"Clint?", Phil kept his voice calm.

The last thing he remembered was that he and Clint were in their hotel room planning their next move while Natasha was out to gather more information.

"Here," the archer's breath sounded labored.

"Are you hurt?", the room was completely dark.

"No, but I have trouble breathing," he remembered a strange smell before he woke up here, shackled to a wall or something.

"Are you allergic to something?", he was sure there wasn't anything about allergies in Clint's file.

"No, not until now." The archer tried to sit up, his wrists hurt, "Are you okay, sir?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry. Concentrate on breathing, okay?", the worry was gnawing on Phil's heart.

"Okay."

"My, my isn't that cute," a man switched on the light.

Phil and Clint winced as the light hurt their eyes.

"Dr. Redcliff?!", Phil raised his brows in surprise.

"Correct, Agent Coulson. How nice of S.H.I.E.L.D to send me a couple."

"We aren't," Phil said defensive.

"but close enough," the doctor smiled. "Get them to the lab," his last experiment failed moments ago.

"No." Clint fought them but the two guards were stronger.

Phil's guards held him in an iron grip, he had no chance to move.

"Barton, stop it." Clint's ragged breathing worried him greatly.

Clint gave up the fight against his guards just to pick up a fight with his own body.

It was hard to get enough air into his lungs to stay conscious.

The lab was spacious and well equipped. "I don't hold captives very long," the doctor pointed at two corpses close to a wall.

Their bodies steamed like someone fried them. "What happened to them?", Phil wasn't sure he wanted an answer to that.

"Too much electricity."

"You electrocuted them? Who do you think you are Frankenstein?", Clint stated dryly, that couldn't be true. Life could be such a bitch.

"No I'm better than him," that was not necessarily a denial.

"Good gracious. He's insane," Clint muttered under his breath.

"Strap them to the beds." Redcliff started monitoring their brain activities and injected them three different liquids.

The first made them feel like on clouds.

The second burned like fire in their veins, making them scream in despair.

The third sent a chill through their bodies.

"Interesting." Redcliff talked to himself while he took a scalpel.

He cut deep into Clint's arm, the archer gave his best not to cry out in pain.

Redcliff returned his attention to his monitor, "Aw, Agent Coulson, calm down it's just a cut."

Clint turned his head to look at Phil, he could see the rage in the older man's eyes as their eyes met.

"I think you're the perfect candidates for my experiment," he whispered something to his goons before their worlds went dark again.

Clint opened his heavy eyelids, scanning his surroundings.

The floor he sat on was cold but his cuffs were gone this time and something warm was pressed against his back.

_Where is Phil?,_ His heart rate increased.

"Calm down," only then Clint noticed the two strong arms around him, two hands resting on his belly.

"Phil?", he sighed with relief.

"I'm fine but you are not," the cut looked painful and the drugs did no good to his allergic reaction to the gas.

"It's easier to breath," Clint tried to take a few deep breaths, yep it was easier.

"Good." Phil whispered close to his ear.

"Trouble?", the archer put his hands on top of Phil's without thinking.

"He has plans for us and I'm sure we won't like it." Coulson tightened his hold around the archer as if he could shield him from all evil.

"They will find us." Natasha was the best and Nick would give Redcliff hell.

"I know, the question is when. Preferably in time."

"Thank you for making me feel better, sir." Clint stared at the door.

He was glad about the fact that the room wasn't dark this time.

"You're welcome." Phil joked, some gallows humor couldn't hurt.

"Just in case we don't make it. I want you to know that I loved working with you and that I'm grateful for all the chances you gave me during the past two years."

"Good that we will make it and I don't have to think about a reply," he would not tell Clint how much he loved working with him. It sounded too final. There was still hope.

"They're coming," was Clint's reply.

"We will make it," they had to.

"We will make it," the archer agreed.

The guards led them to the lab and strapped them to the beds but this time there was a huge machine between the beds.

Redcliff hooked them up on the machine and explained something about mind transfer and combining abilities.

Clint was too absentminded to listen.

He wanted to see Phil one last time before the maniac fried their brains but the machine was in the way.

Phil stared at the machine, trying to get a glimpse of Clint next to it. Redcliff's monologue worried him greatly and he wasn't so sure that they had a chance.

Redcliff started the machine without a warning.

They could feel the electricity in their body. Pain that felt like fire was burning them from the inside out.

After what felt like an eternity of pain and agony their world went black.

::::::::::::::

"Clint?" a hand touched his.

"Nat?", he choked out.

_Where am I? Where is Phil? Redcliff? _

He heard something beep frantically next to him.

"Calm down," she squeezed his hand, "You're safe"

He looked around, trying hard to focus.

The beeping noise was coming from the heart monitor on the right side of his bed.

A canula in his nostrils provided some extra air and two different IV bags did the rest.

"Phil?", she could see the panic in his eyes.

"He's fine, he woke up half an hour a ago," she soothed. "It was touch and go for a while but you guys are too stubborn to die."

_Phil almost died? _

"I have to see him," what was the strange feeling in his chest? Agitation?

"They have to make more tests," she lowered her gaze.

"What has he done to us?", the agitation grew.

"Our scientists suspect that his experiment was successful," she and the rescue team had been too late.

"Natasha," he said sharply.

The emotions running though him were unnerving and foreign, "Oh."

"What?", her eyes went wide.

"They aren't mine," the archer gasped, "they aren't mine," he placed a hand on his chest.

"What are you talking about?"

"The emotions." He tipped against his chest, "They aren't mine, not all of them."

_Are they Phil's? Why does he feel so agitated?_

"I have to see him." Clint sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed,

"No," she placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back.

Clint gave her a sharp glare that he normally used on perps who pissed him off royally, "I want to see him."

"No," she said stubbornly.

A doctor and two burly male nurses entered to see what caused the ruckus.

"Agent Barton, nice you rejoined the land of living I would appreciate if it remained that way," he gave the heart monitor a long suffering glance.

"I want to see Agent Coulson."

"He voiced the wish not to see you for a while."

Pain pierced like a dagger through his heart, _Phil avoids me?_

A wave of cold fear rushed through him that wasn't his own.

"Give me that and I hurt you." Clint pointed at the syringe the doc conjured out of his pocket.

"You need rest."

"Knock me out and I hurt you." Clint repeated, he didn't need rest. He needed his handler and sort out what ever had happened.

"Okay," he raised his hands in surrender, "We leave you alone."

Clint watched them leave until the door closed.

"You, too." Clint ordered, taking Natasha by surprise.

"What?"

"I don't want to see you anytime soon." He thought she was on his side, that she would support him but he was clearly wrong.

"Clint don't be stupid," she chided. "Give him some time to cope before you jump on him with your emotional baggage."

"Is that what they are to you? Just baggage?"

"You have a load of issues," she reasoned and she wasn't sure how stable Phil was where his emotions were concerned.

"Leave me alone," he was disappointed in her and for the first time in a very long time he wanted to be alone.

"Think about it," she threw over her shoulder before she closed the door behind her.

Clint closed his eyes, listening carefully to the humming in his body.

_What is mine and what is yours? _

Clint knew he was definitely disappointed, lonely, a little angry and clueless.

The huge amount of anger and agitation was not his, neither was disgust and sadness.

Phil must have given them hell for coming too late.

The archer waited half an hour before he slipped into the air duct and searched for Phil's room.

"Hey, sir." Clint dropped silently down next to Phil's bed.

"I told them I don't want you here." Phil's voice was cold and sent a shiver down Clint's spine.

"Why?"

"Because you're suffocating me with your emotions," the older agent snapped, "and I hope they find a cure and that fast." He didn't like sharing. His emotions were his, not Clint's. The archer had no right to feel them, to invade his privacy.

"It's not like I can't feel you." Clint replied nonchalantly in hope to lighten the mood.

"I treasure my privacy, Agent." Sadness ripped through his chest like claws.

Phil wondered how one person was able to feel so much sadness.

"I forgot, I broadcast my life daily for everyone who listens." Clint's expression darkened, "Look, sir, I don't want to fight. I'm here because I worry." He tried to place a hand on Phil's arm but his handler slapped his hand away before their skin made contact.

Clint felt a stinging pain in his arm and welcomed it, it gave him something else to feel instead of sadness and Phil's anger.

Phil watched Clint with wide eyes, feeling his relief, _what's causing it?_

His eyes followed Clint's gaze and settled down on the archer's arm.

The white bandage was slowly turning red, _I reopened the stitches..._

The archer jumped and pulled himself up into the air duct before Phil got a chance to apologize.

Their bond was remarkably quiet, there was just... coldness.

Phil remembered how intense the forced bond between them could be.

He could feel Clint while he was in a coma. At one point he felt the bond fade and something heavy was dragging him down, deeper into the darkness and the cold.

He had needed a while to realize that the archer had died and the strange feeling of needles hitting his skin came from the defibrillator.

Natasha told him after he woke up that they had to reanimate both of them, Phil's heart refused to work shortly after Clint went into shock.

He almost lost the archer and his own life due to a damn experiment.

It was wrong, so wrong. _Humans are individuals they shouldn't share feelings like that. _

"Fuck," he cursed, tears stinging in his eyes. He should have told Clint that he was glad the archer was alive and not that he hated what they now had.

:::::::::::::

"Agent Coulson," the doctor greeted, three days had passed and he didn't see his archer again.

The doc explained that they had no clue how to revoke the bond and that they probably had to learn to live with it.

"How is Agent Barton?", the look in his doctors eyes was unsettling.

"I'd like to know that, too."

"He ran." Phil deadpanned, of course he did after what happened.

"Yes, and I'm worried. We have to take out the stitches in a few days and his respiratory tract has suffered. I wanted to give him an emergency inhaler but he was already gone."

"Romanoff will find him, or the Director," Phil suggested.

"They tried and they failed," the doctor shrugged. "He doesn't want to be found."

Phil tried so hard to ignore his feelings for days that he wasn't aware that Clint had run.

Now that he thought of it Natasha hadn't visited once since Clint woke up.

Coulson tried to sense his asset but all he got at the moment was thoughtfulness, there was no trace left of the anger he felt the day before.

"When can I leave?"

"I'm surprised you're still here, sir," at least one of them was listening to him for once, "Tomorrow morning."

"Okay." Phil agreed, tomorrow was good. Gave him more time to think, "Send Black Widow in."

"She's on a mission."

_Wow, she must be pissed about something,_ "See you tomorrow." He returned to his paperwork, it was better than doing nothing.

Phil wasn't able to concentrate on his paperwork as a strong sense of pain hit him.

And there was the damn sense of relief again that should have no place in their bond while the archer was in pain.

He informed Nick who sent a search party to look for Clint.

No one bothered to inform him if they found him or not.

So the first destination after he got released was Fury's office.

"Did you find him?"

"Yes," the older man nodded.

"And?"

"He's in medical."

"Stop playing with me and spill it already." Phil was frustrated.

"He got into a fight with a brick wall. Bruised knuckles and too much alcohol. They sedated him and have to treat the infection he developed."

"Infection?"

"His arm, the idiot tore his stitches and left it unattended." Fury sighed.

Phil felt sick at the thought that he caused the infection and Clint took the blame.

"Two days and he's back on his feet and ready for the field."

"Can I see him?"

"His doc keeps him under for the next two days."

"He wants to keep him asleep for two days?", Phil frowned, "Clint will kill him."

"My order, should he ask." Nick was ready to take the blame, Clint loved him and wouldn't stay angry for long.

"Yes, sir." the conversation was over and Phil returned to his duties.


	5. Nick you sneaky bastard

::::::::::::::

"Report." Phil and Clint avoided each other outside of the job.

"Target not in sight," his voice was neutral, so unlike Clint.

"He's coming." Natasha took position half a mile away from Clint.

Clint's silence was unnerving, "Shoot at sight." Coulson hoped for an answer but it was Nat's voice in his ear, "40 seconds."

The archer watched the target approach and fired a bullet between his eyes.

"Meet me in ten." Phil ordered, "Keep your emotions in check." He gasped as a wave of nausea hit him.

"Yes, sir." Clint closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He'd spent three hours in the blazing sun, without some kind of protection. It reminded him of the fried couple in Redcliff's lab.

It was hard not to broadcast what he felt, humans felt so much during a day.

"Drink that." Natasha offered him a bottle of water after he joined them in the car.

He nodded his thanks and took slow sips.

Clint tried to keep his mind blank, no thoughts, no emotions, right? No, not really but it was better that way, at least for Phil.

"Dinner?", Phil broke through the uncomfortable silence.

"No, thank you, sir." Clint looked out the window, studying the street.

"I'm hungry," the older agent stated and Natasha agreed.

They stopped at a diner in a small town outside of New York.

Natasha ordered a huge salad and milkshake.

Phil got the burger and fries he liked so much while Clint stared into his cup of pseudo-coffee.

"You need to eat," Natasha pointed at him with her fork.

"Don't tell me what I have to do," he disliked that. Phil treating him like a child at times was okay, he got used to it but that was not Natasha's role.

"You need to eat," Phil repeated her words, "and I have every right to tell you what to do."

Clint remained silent, trying to control his anger.

"You wanna hit me?", it felt that way.

Clint nibbled on his bottom lip, _cool down damn it, there's nothing you can hide anymore._

All his defensive walls and masks he hid behind were useless against Phil and the older agent was obviously using his advantage.

It wasn't like him and Clint wondered what had changed. He was sure Phil liked him, they were friends for a long time and maybe even more.

But now they were nothing and that made him sad and angry.

"Clint?", Phil rubbed over his own chest as if he tried to sooth something away.

There was a wave of worry that took Clint by surprise. It was nice to know that Phil still cared for him, just a little but better than nothing at all.

He tightened the hold around his cup, absorbing the warmth, "I'm fine, sir."

"Don't lie to me agent." Phil chided.

"As if I could," he mumbled, it was frustrating that Phil had access to his soul.

He always wanted to give Phil all he had but on his own free will and not by force.

"We have to live with it," Coulson snapped, "don't think I like having you inside my head 24/7"

That hurt, a lot. He understood that it was unpleasant and that Couslon was a very private man but hearing him state the fact was hurtful nonetheless.

The silence dragged on until they finished dinner.

Phil paid for the food and got a sandwich for Clint, "Eat it." He thrust the package in Clint's hands.

The archer stared at it for a moment before he threw it at the homeless man close to the diner who caught the sandwich in surprise.

"Thank you," the man's eyes lit up as he bit into the sandwich with glee.

A little smile tucked on Clint's lip before he followed his comrades to the car.

Phil clenched his jaw as Hawkeye gave away his food but remained silent, and so did Natasha.

::::::::::::::

Clint hid inside his room from the outside world and especially Phil.

The rift between them had never been so huge.

Normally they had to jump over a rift of the size of a ruler but this time it felt like the Grand Canyon was parting them.

He leaned against his cold wall, sitting in a corner of his room.

There was a hint of annoyance that wasn't his own, Phil was probably in one of the meetings he hated so much.

Coulson always nagged about his colleagues and how stupid they could be.

Oh, there it was. The heavy feeling of boredom.

It was definitely a meeting.

Clint had to chuckle at that but stopped suddenly as the feeling of annoyance grew, mixed with anger.

_Don't feel, don't feel_, Clint reminded himself.

He hated Phil's anger, it made him feel lousy and even though the bond bound them together he felt alone. Loneliness was a constant in his life but he'd hoped things changed.

That the feeling of belonging would become his constant in life.

There was a strong sense of surprise and annoyance.

Clint chided himself again for upsetting Phil.

Twenty-six hours, and Clint could get away for a while.

He begged Nick to get him a new handler, preferably far away from New York.

Maybe the distance would weaken the bond or let it disappear while they were apart.

Fury promised not to tell Phil anything except he asked, and Clint was sure that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

Clint kept Natasha at distance, too.

First she tried to keep them apart but then she tried to push them back together.

The archer got up, busying himself with packing his bag.

It helped not to think, after packing he started to clean his room and after he finished he started again until it was time to leave.

Phil tried to find the archer for hours before he decided to simply ask Nick.

"Lost your asset again?", Nick put down the file he was reading.

"Sounds like you know where he is."

"I do," the older man nodded.

"And where is he? I have an op coming up."

"You're not his handler anymore."

"What?", a cold chill enclosed his heart.

"He left two days ago for Asia. Date of return: Unknown," the director stated.

His archer was gone. He left without a goodbye.

_Was that the reason he broadcasted such a strange mix of emotions? _

_Nothing, sadness, annoyance, nothing, loneliness..._

And none of it was directed at Phil, it felt more like self-hatred.

"What is he doing?", it felt like Clint was suffering, and bored at times. "Has he to hold still?"

"Very still." Nick didn't envy the archer at the moment, "Jungle, snakes, spiders, heat and high air moisture. No fun for him."

"What if he gets bitten?", Phil's imagination ran wild.

Nick gave his agent a funny look before he snorted, "Worrywart."

"He's my asset...", Phil stopped midsentence, "he was my asset for a long time," he corrected.

"I know both of you are very private people but I thought you know everything about each other anyway," they were so close.

"I don't like these feelings, they're suffocating."

"Then make him feel good." Fury deadpanned.

Phil stared at his boss for a moment, trying hard to work out what he meant.

"Don't think I don't know you like him more than you should."

"I don't..."

"Of course you do and I've never seen him so happy before." Seven years and the first five had been hard for Clint until his beloved super Agent entered his life.

"They're distracting." Phil brought them back to a topic he was more comfortable with.

"Learn to control them, to live with them. I don't care but sort it out. It's permanent."

"Yes, sir." Phil strolled out of the office.

_Home? Or paperwork? Or supervising the new recruits? _

He took a deep calming breath before he changed direction and headed for the parking lot.

"He can't cope with emotions," Natasha startled him. She sat on his couch, the room was completely dark.

"What are you doing here?", Phil tried not to sound as surprised as he felt.

"I read his file."

"You had no right to." Phil's tone hardened.

"I'm his friend," that was a very good reason for her.

"Doesn't make it right." Phil took off his jacket.

"He's overcharged with everything that is not sadness, hate or disgust," she ignored his argument.

"He knows we like him," he did, didn't he?

"Do you know why he wanted to help me?"

"No," that was not entirely true.

"Because my life resembled his," she said gravely. "No one wants us. No one stays with us, but you. And now you turned on him, too."

"I didn't turn my back on him."

"Yes, you do," he could hear her move in the dark. "There aren't many people who care for us, Phil. I'm an orphan just like him. I'm a trained criminal, just like him. The only difference is that I still have you, he has not," he could hear the tears in her voice.

Coulson switched on the light but she was gone.

:::::::::::::

_Oh, no, no, no, go away..._

Clint's body tensed as a huge ugly centipede strolled lazy over his arm.

A chill ran down his spine, he hated these thingies with passion.

It was hard not to move, "Hawkeye, target is approaching," his new handler informed.

He was a sturdy man in his mid-forty. Not bad but not nice either.

He was friendly and understanding whenever it seemed useful.

The rest of the time he gave a damn what Clint was doing.

"Understood," he mumbled, scared he could attract the centipede's attention.

A sudden rush of worry let his arm twitch, the centipede stopped, looking around for a threat.

_Damn_, Clint sighed inwardly, _Sorry Phil._

Clint took a deep breath and focused on his target, _aim, pull the trigger, bullseye._

"Good work, meet me at HQ," and the line went dead.

"What?", he hissed barely audible, _I'm in the middle of nowhere, how do I get back to HQ?_

The worry in the bond intensified.

Clint considered to ignore it but Phil deserved an answer so he tried to feel something positive.

The worry intensified even more, _what the hell?_

But he had no time to think too much about it at the moment, he had to find his way back to HQ.

Clint took his navigation device out of his backpack and hoped the battery was strong enough to hold the connection with the satellite until he knew where he was.

It was unbearable hot and sticky but he was lucky enough that no one followed him.

He had all the time in the world to go back, more or less.

The archer was sure it was revenge for the order he refused to follow, the day before.

Armed or not he would not kill a kid if he could help it.

He knocked the kid, he was around 12, out with a taser arrow.

Chen was stupid when he thought Hawkeye killed children just because his reputation said he was morally flexible.

The sun was setting and stole most of the precious daylight. "Damn," he had to stop and build a camp before he could continue his journey.

He build a little fire and put up a makeshift tent.

Being alone was crappy, he had to stay awake because no one had his back.

Clint listened carefully while he carved an eagle out of a piece of wood to keep himself busy.

He was so tired it was almost physically painful to keep his eyes open.

Phil wouldn't have done that, he continued to protect him even after the incident with Miss Romanova.

He missed the older agent dearly, his voice, his sparkling blue eyes and the smile that was reserved only for Clint.

His eyelids dropped and he fell into a dreamless sleep for a short moment.

Clint forced himself to open his eyes, looking at his watch, "Thank god, microsleep." He sighed.

He didn't want to die of a snake bite or another poisonous critter.

::::::::::::::

The sudden feeling of shock left Phil breathless.

It was the short and intense, the sort of shock you feel when someone or something startles you.

"Sir?", an agent frowned at Phil.

"Old injury," it was not truly a lie, was it?

"What does he feel now?", Hill rolled her eyes.

"Something startled him."

"Startling _him_?", he was the one who caused more heart attacks than arteriosclerosis.

"He hates critters." Phil said out loud but it was more meant for himself than Maria.

"Focus on the op," she warned.

Coulson nodded returning his attention to the screen in front of him.

They found a Hydra base close to the border between USA and Canada.

"Team one, access." Phil watched the screen closely, "Team two, provide backup. Widow get the data."

"Yes, sir," she confirmed.

It was strange to lead an operation without Clint by his side. They just worked together for two years but the last two years had been the best during his career.

Not having the archer to back him up showed him how he undervalued Clint's presence and his skill to ease some of Phil's strains.

He missed his archer so much it hurt.

"Team four, back up team one." Phil ordered monotone, he missed Clint's voice in his ear.

The operation ended with a shootout and a huge explosion.

A bullet grazed Phil on the arm, Natasha exited the building with a shiner while Sitwell took a bullet to the shoulder much to Maria's distress.

All in all they were lucky to be alive.

Phil spent two hours in medical until someone found the time to stitch up his arm.

'are you okay?' his phone startled him and he needed a moment to realize whom the message was from.

Clint found a town outside of the dead zone.

'bullet grazed my arm, I'm fine'

He didn't get a reply.

'How are you?'

Still no reply.

Barton had moved on and was back in the dead zone after he got the information he'd hoped for.

Phil was fine that was all he needed to know.

Clint stopped a moment as sheer panic enclosed his heart, _What's going on? It was just a graze, wasn't it? Did you lie? Phil! _

Coulson started to relax as a wave of worry let him know that Clint was fine, "Thank god." The worry was meant for him, he could feel it.

Clint wouldn't worry about him in case he was in danger or dead.

Barton considered the possibility that he'd caused Phil's injury with his emotions.

He decided to ask his doctor once he found a way out of the country.

Chen could wait for him until he got moldy.

::::::::::::::

"Nice to have you back." Nick smiled sweetly.

"You teamed me up with Chen on purpose, didn't you, sir?", Clint deadpanned.

Fury's expression gave everything away, "Sneaky bastard," the archer mumbled.

"I have you back," Nick clapped his hands, "Let's talk about your next assignment. Coulson still has a free spot on his team."

"I don't have a say in this, right?"

"Not at all." Fury confirmed.

"I report to him at 0800, tomorrow morning." Clint turned around to leave.

"Medical, now." Fury ordered, "Hill will accompany you," she gave Nick a deadly glare.

"Yes, sir." Clint and Maria said in unison.

"You don't look well," she felt the urge to say something.

"Don't feel well," the honesty in his voice was a surprise.

"When was the last time you slept?", a hint of worry crept into her heart.

"Can't remember," _around 72 hours ago, or 100... What day was it anyway?_

"Take it easy okay?", she eyed him. "He's not the same without you," she added.

"I think he's doing just fine." Clint was nothing special in his own eyes.

"He's not," she shook her head. "He snaps more and talks less."

Barton snorted.

"Okay, he snaps even more and talks even less," she rolled her eyes.

"He did a fine job the past ten years before we met."

"He never had a team like that either." Black Widow and Hawkeye were special.

They had something that touched the calm agents heart.

Only Natasha and Clint were able to make him lose his cool composure in the blink of an eye.

"You can go now." Clint entered medical and spooked the nurses and doctors with his cooperative demeanor.

Hill frowned as Barton grabbed the first doctor he saw and dragged him into the next treatment room. She sighed deeply and left. Fury told her to accompany him to medical, he didn't say she had to stay or bring him back.

"Drink a lot, 3 meals a day and a good night's sleep," his doctor ordered.

"Can I get the meds we talked about, last time?", the doctors gave them the option to regulate their emotions with help of drugs.

Phil flat out refused and told them no one had the right to tinker with his soul.

Clint on the other hand had thought about it but he hated meds and wanted to try it without their help.

But the fact that Phil got hurt was most probably his fault.

His stupid emotions caused Phil harm and that was not alright.

Natasha was right, he had too many issues for Phil to bear.

"Are you sure?", the doctor asked suspiciously, it was a well known fact that Agent Barton hated medicaments. Most doctors joked that his dislike for them bordered on a phobia.

"I'm sure." Clint had no other choice when he wanted to keep Coulson safe.

"You need a shot once a day," the nurse gave him his injection.

"Okay," he knew that they would affect him a lot but it was okay as long as his aim remained unaffected.

"See you tomorrow," she gave him a blinding smile but Clint just waved goodbye.

The drug made him feel strange and he wondered how he would feel after a few days, and enough sleep to tell the difference between sleep deprivation and drug induced lack of emotions.

"Nice to have you back," he heard Natasha say.

"Wish I could say the same about being back," he deadpanned before he turned around to look at her. His eyes widened the moment he spotted Phil next to her.

There was a strong feeling of hurt that wasn't his own.

"Do you know who will get your manpower?", the older agent covered his hurt with professionalism.

"You." Clint looked almost reluctant.

"I?"

"Yes, sir. Fury's order," the older agent looked so pretty, even in the bright artificial light of HQ's blank hallway.

Phil frowned there was a small hint of love and affection radiating from Clint.

"Nice to have you back," he finally said.

A small and gentle smile appeared on Clint's lips and the feeling of affection intensified but the amount of emotion within the bond was by far not as intense as he was used to.

"See you tomorrow, sir," the archer left.

"Can we take a look at his Asia assignment?", Natasha noticed how tired the archer looked and the paleness of his skin was not normal either.

"Let's go." Phil headed for Nick's office to get the file.

"Found your little gift?", Nick took a thick file out of his drawer.

"Gift?", Phil narrowed his eyes.

"Let's say I chose a handler who would love to get rid of Hawkeye sooner than later. I'm sorry for what happened, though." He never predicted that Chen would abandon the archer in the middle of a jungle.

"You have to stop doing that to him."

"I?", Nick huffed, "I did my best to protect him. I saved him from Brice and tried hard to find the right person for him. I put my trust in you to keep him safe and you let him down." He knew it was harsh but Coulson had to understand that Clint was nothing like him.

"I didn't." Coulson gasped, why couldn't Nick understand that it was hard for him, too.

"You're the most important person in his life," Nick said blunt.

Phil remembered the attraction Clint felt as he looked at him.

Clint was needy, always was. Love, attention and a sense of belonging was essential for the archer.

"Are you aware of the fact that he loves you?", Nick knew it wasn't on him to tell but his friends were too dense for their own good.

"He's attracted to me."

"He's not attracted, he's head over heels in love with you."

"We have too many issues to have future."

"Bullshit, Phil." Nick roared, "He's hurting, he left to get away from us, even though I had to promise him, years ago, to never transfer him. He likes it here, he even likes the Helicarrier. There was a time he refused to live outside of the Helicarrier," it was his first real home.

"Who likes to live there?"

"It was his safe-haven, the safest place he ever got to know."

"It's not easy to accept the fact that someone can read you like a book, there's nothing I can keep a secret. I'm broadcasting everything to him."

"No one says it's easy but you should be glad that it's Clint. Imagine you had to share with someone you don't like. I mean he likes you, you like him. You could have something great." Fury was sure of that.

"I can't feel much more than sadness in his heart," that was frustrating.

"What do you feel?"

"I..." Phil thought about it and came to the conclusion that he was mainly annoyed and angry and that was what Clint felt. Day in and day out. It wasn't much of a surprise that Clint was sad.

Seemed that Fury wasn't so wrong as he told him to make the archer happy.

"That's what I mean. It's an interplay of feelings," the director's features softened.

"I need more time."

"Take all the time you need but don't push him away," he had been so sure they finally got together, the day he surprised them at Phil's flat but the damn psycho had to ruin it all.

"Yes, sir." Phil took the file and returned to Natasha who waited in Phil's office.


	6. I want you back

::::::::::::::

"Clint?", Phil couldn't feel the archer, a little distress now and then but that was all.

The older agent entered the archer's room to make sure he was alright.

He read the mission report and felt even more sorry for his friend.

Abandoned in the middle of nowhere without a chance to call a rescue team.

Chen was on top of his soon-to-kill list.

His medical file stated luckily that he would be fine once he slept and ate.

Phil sneaked into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Clint was dead to the world.

The archer was pale and seemed even in his sleep restless.

He wasn't tossing and turning but the lines on his face gave away what he had to endure the past days.

Nick meant well but assigning Clint to a handler not suited for him was even for the director low.

"Barton, you're late," they had two hours left before they had to leave but Phil made it his mission to force food on Clint before they had to leave.

"'m not," he mumbled into his pillow.

Phil watched him sleep for a while with a gentle smile on his lips.

"We have to leave soon," he placed his hand on Clint's arm, rubbing soothing circles over his bare skin.

"Tired," the marksman whined softly.

"I know you are, and I promise to grant you two days off afterwards," he deserved more than two days but that was all Phil could offer.

"Promise?", Clint relaxed as a warm feeling spread through his ribcage. It was Phil.

"I promise," the older man repeated.

Barton took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, he was so tired. _Life sucks._

"Meet me in the mess hall, in thirty." Phil got up and left.

The mattress was warm where Phil had sat and Clint realized that it wasn't a dream.

Coulson had been here with him. Coulson cared for him.

But Clint wasn't able to care.

He got up and took a quick shower before he visited sick bay.

The nurse wasn't as friendly as the one the day before but it was alright.

"Thought you fell asleep again," Phil stated coolly, but the amusement in his eyes gave Phil away.

"14 hours should be enough," Clint slumped onto a chair opposite Phil.

"Not after what you had to endure," Phil shook his head.

"The view was pretty," the archer shrugged, "Where are we going?"

"Cairo."

"Great, heat," Clint mumbled.

"Sorry about that," Phil got up and left the archer with his thoughts.

"Eat that," Phil returned after a short moment with a tray full of food. He'd scared a few junior agents and made it from the end of the queue to the top in under ten seconds.

"Not hungry," Clint's eyes were closed and his voice sounded sleepy, Phil wondered how the young man managed not to fall off the chair.

"It's an order", Phil dragged his chair next to Clint.

The young man cracked an eye open. Phil sat far too close for his liking.

"Eat, or I'll feed you," it wasn't an empty threat.

"Yes, sir." Clint bent forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Eat it, not poke it," the older man sighed with annoyance.

Clint stilled for a moment before he started to eat the food Phil brought.

Phil realized how his emotions just manipulated the archer to do something against his own wish.

"You don't have to eat it all, but try as much as you can." Coulson watched his asset intensely.

Phil found it kind of strange that he couldn't feel the annoyance that was clearly written on his archer's face.

"Here you are." Clint's back tensed as Natasha approached.

"Good morning, Tasha." Phil greeted her with a kind smile, "We're leaving in an hour."

"Okay," she placed her tray on the table and watched Clint while she sat down "You look like shit."

Clint remained silent, concentrating on his food.

Natasha looked at Phil with a worried frown on her handsome face.

The older agent shook his head that stated, leave it be.

The archer ate half the food on his plate before he shoved the tray aside.

They hadn't much to eat on some ops and they got used to share leftovers.

"Thank you." Phil accepted the tray, "We take two more agents with us this time. It's just a level 2 op."

"Laying low and wait," Nat stated dryly, "What do I have to do?"

"You will lure the dealer in Clint's direction," Phil said after he swallowed his scrambled eggs. The food got worse year by year.

"And what are the two agents for?"

"To watch and learn."

"Learn what?", she glared, "How to play hooker?"

"Something like that, yes. Agent Christina Ricardo wants to become an undercover agent. And Agent Joseph Gordon wants to become a sniper." Phil glanced at Clint as the younger man groaned in annoyance.

"You're the best marksman we have." Phil let it sound like praise instead of just stating the fact, "You'll show him how to choose a nest and he watches your every move, or rather lack of movements, while you do your job."

"I have to get my stuff." Clint got up and headed for sick bay to ask if they could give him the syringes for his injections or pills.

Phil and Natasha stayed in the mess hall for a while longer, discussing their next move to bring the team back together.

:::::::::::::

"I'm honored to learn from you." Gordon took Clint's hand and shook it with glee, annoying Clint even more. He hated being touched without his consent.

Phil's worry grew, he couldn't feel the things he could clearly see in Clint's expression.

The bond Phil despised so much was the only link to Clint he had left.

He thought a lot about what Nick said and what he felt for the archer, and where the bond fitted into all this.

Phil came to the conclusion that they should give their bond a try. They had a lot to learn but they had a lifetime to learn how to control it.

"Let go of his hand agent, he still needs it." The strange look Clint was giving him confused Phil even more.

_Is it my worry?_ Coulson mused, they weren't in danger and the sense of worry must seem out of place.

"Oh, sorry." Gordon blushed with shame.

"Black Widow, show her how to dress and behave correctly. Hawkeye, take him with you," Phil ordered.

After a round of yes sirs they left Phil alone in the van.

Ricardo rejoined Phil after Natasha explained how to choose the right outfit, the makeup and after she coerced her into role-playing. She had to seduce Natasha, who pretended to be the target.

She failed big-time but Romanoff told her that she possessed the right potential.

Phil could read in her expression that she wasn't happy, "Watch the monitors and learn."

"Yes, sir." She seemed determined to learn the tricks, Phil liked that.

Thirteen stories high, Clint waited in silence for the target to appear in his scope.

After the first hour, Gordon grew impatient and tapped with his fingers against the edge of the building.

"Stop that." Clint ordered, it was making him nervous.

"I'm bored."

"Keep your eyes on the street." Hawkeye's eyes were glued on the world below them.

"Yes." Gordon wasn't happy about that.

"Radio silence, Gordon." Phil's smooth voice appeared in their earpiece.

Clint relaxed a little, he missed Phil voice in his ear.

He missed the knowledge that he was safe.

Phil was the only person he was safe with, quarreled or not.

Three hours passed and the target was still not in sight.

"Stop fidgeting around," Clint hissed, "It's annoying."

"What's taking them so long?"

"What do you think snipers do? Appear, shoot and leave?", Barton tried to concentrate on the street.

"Your handler tells you when the mark appears," he didn't understand why he had to remain absolutely still.

"Your handler isn't all-knowing. No offence, sir."

"None taken," Phil assured.

"You have to observe your surroundings, picking up on little changes. It's your job to warn your team and keep them safe. You see, being a sniper contains by far more than sitting on a roof and shoot." Hawkeye wasn't a poster child but he knew the rules.

"But three hours?", the day was extremely hot in addition to the long wait and that was pure torture.

"Normally I spend around three days in my nest. Blazing sun, freezing cold or heavy rain." Clint gave him a brief glance.

"Days?", the job sounded more and more boring.

"Days," Barton confirmed. "I know, sir. Radio silence," he heard the little sigh on the other end of the line.

"Thank you, Hawkeye." Phil shook his head in amusement, surprising his junior agent.

"Always, sir," the archer couldn't suppress a reply, the way Phil spoke to him reminded him of the time before the experiment.

"Give her more time and before you know it we're on our way home," Phil gave in the urge to break his own radio silence order.

Clint quarreled with himself until he decided to screw his fears, "Pizza and beer?"

"Sure." Phil agreed, Clint gasped as a very strong feeling of joy hit him, "Sorry."

"It's fine, sir," it felt good to know that Phil wanted him around.

After all that had to be said was said, they kept silent.

The junior agents always wondered how the famous team Coulson was working.

They thought Coulson dominated them or would shoot them the moment they disobey but friendship was not what they'd expected.

"There she is." Ricardo pointed at the screen.

"Hawkeye," was all Phil said.

"Copy that," the archer replied and the two junior agents wondered how many orders the word contained.

Natasha looked pretty in her skin tight jeans and boots. Her shirt was sleeve less and pronounced her long elegant neck even more. The target had a weakness for saucy tourists.

Clint narrowed his eyes as the target grabbed her ass, squeezing it.

The archer was sure squeezing her ass in public was against the local customs.

He fired his rifle and the target went down, followed by his three guards and the two suspicious looking men behind them who were grabbing for their guns.

Natasha used the distraction to scream and cry, she took one step back, than two, three, hysterically running away until she could safely drop the act and vanish in the crowd.

Clint grabbed his gear and led Gordon back to the van, three blocks away.

"Good job." Phil switched to the driver's seat and started the engine, "Time to pick up our Black Widow."

"Where is she?", Clint scanned the area, she had to be there.

There was a bloody handprint on one of the walls, the hand was too small for a man.

"Sir." Clint pointed at the wall, "She can't be far."

"Gordon, Hawkeye take the right side. Ricardo and I take the left."

They split up, examining every building on their way.

"Found her," Phil informed and gave Clint the coordinates.

"They're Fadihl's men, what are they doing here?", Clint whispered.

"I don't know but we have to get her out of there," Phil pulled his gun.

"I can't take them out from afar." There wasn't a suitable nest anywhere near.

"Be careful."

"Always," they both knew that was not true.

"Ricardo, Gordon. You back us up," Phil counted down to zero and they stormed into the shop floor.

Natasha spotted a split lip and a cut above her right eye.

Phil fired three shots, taking two men down. Clint took care of the guy lurking in the shadows behind Phil.

Ricardo went down with a scream and Gordon shot the woman who shot Ricardo.

Clint took a bullet to the upper arm but didn't feel much of it due to the adrenaline and drugs.

"Situation under control," Gordon yelled.

"How are you?", Phil cut the ropes around Natasha's wrists.

"Felt better," her ego spotted a serious crack, "Thanks for the rescue."

"You're welcome," Phil examined her for more injuries but she seemed fine, "How's Ricardo?"

"Bullet to the shoulder, through and through. She will be fine in no time." Clint patted her on the uninjured shoulder.

"Gordon." Phil eyed the young man.

"I'm fine." Gordon smiled reassuring.

Phil didn't pay much attention to Clint, because due to the bond he'd know when something was wrong.

"Let's go before we attract even more attention," the archer helped Christina up.

They all hurried to the van and made it back to the safe house in one piece.

Natasha took a long shower before Phil attended to her wounds, "I don't think it will leave a scar," he cleaned the cut above her eye.

"Good, I like my face the way it is," she pouted. "Take off your dirty clothes and take a shower you're making me sick."

Phil had the decency to change his suit after he stitched Christina up.

"I can't."

"Undress. Shower. Dress. I don't see the problem," she joked.

"I can't lift my arm."

Phil almost dropped the patch he intended to stick on the cleaned cut.

"Why didn't I feel anything?", Phil narrowed his eyes.

Clint shrugged and winced as the movement pulled on his wound.

"Let me see," Phil took Clint's hand and guided him to the chair Natasha had occupied a minute earlier.

"No exit wound, sir," he felt the rage Phil felt.

"And you run around like nothing happened. You should have told us," there was a time the archer did tell him things like that. It happened around the fourth month they worked together.

"Didn't want to worry you," Clint whispered, he hated to evoke negative feelings.

"Why can't I feel you? It's bothering me for days."

"I try not to feel. I hurt you," the sadness in the archer's eyes tore on his heart.

Phil realized that there was no difference. The sadness within the bond hurt him and the sadness in his friend's eyes hurt just as much.

The only difference was that Phil knew for sure what Clint was feeling.

"You never hurt me."

"I got you shot." Clint traced a finger over Phil's upper arm.

"It wasn't your fault," it truly wasn't.

"My emotions are distracting, a wave of the wrong emotion at the wrong time..."

Phil put a finger above Clint's lips, "It was an accident. It had nothing to do with our bond."

"Really?", Clint wasn't sure at all.

"Yes, really. The mission went south, there was nothing we could have done to prevent what happened. We lost agents and I was one of the hurt ones. Shit like that happens all the time." That was the reason the archer never texted back, he felt guilty as hell but was probably too tired to feel much at all.

But that didn't explain the lack of emotions, now.

"I don't feel so well," Clint squeezed his eyes shut.

"Come." Phil dragged him into the bathroom.

He undressed the archer and left for a short moment to get clean clothes.

Phil found a package of meds in the depth of Clint's duffle bag. "Idiot", he sighed fondly.

Clint switched on the shower and gave his best to remain upright while the hot water washed away the dirt and blood.

"You shouldn't do that alone." Phil took off his shirt and trousers before he stepped into the shower, standing behind Clint. "Damn, it's too hot Clint."

Phil changed the temperature and put his arms around Clint's middle. "I found the meds."

"Mhm," Clint rested his forehead against the cold tile in front of him. "They keep you safe."

"No, they don't," Phil grabbed the washcloth to clean the wound.

Barton shouldn't shower at all. "I prefer having you in my head 24/7, than not knowing how you're doing. It's wrong to prevent yourself from feeling, I don't want you to do that."

"It's my decision."

"No, not really." Phil placed a gentle kiss against Clint's neck after the young man tensed with pain, "You do it for me, not for yourself. You hate drugs and you hate the way they make you feel."

"Is it really okay for me to feel?", his arm burned like fire but Phil's soft lips against his neck let him forget everything for a moment. The archer leaned back against Phil's muscular body.

"It's okay," it wasn't fair of him to blame everything on Clint.

"I'm glad," he closed his eyes.

"No, no, no," Phil let a hand wander upwards from Clint's belly to his face, "don't sleep. You have to stay awake a little longer."

Clint opened his eyes, leaning closer into the touch, "Yes, sir."

Phil turned off the water and toweled his friend as best he could with one hand, because he didn't dare to let go of Clint in case he toppled over.

"I have to get the bullet out." Phil took the tweezers, "Do you need something against the pain?"

Clint shook his head, "No more meds."

Phil placed a kiss against Clint's forehead before he fished for the bullet.

The archer had a firm grip on Phil's shirt while he gritted his teeth.

He whimpered pitifully as the bullet moved inside the wound, escaping the tweezers.

"Got it," Phil showed the bullet to Clint, "got it."

"Can I sleep, now?", he was so tired.

"First we have to get you dressed and then I tuck you in, deal?"

Clint nodded.

Phil needed ten long minutes to get the archer into his clothes and five more minutes to tuck him in.

"Pain meds?", Phil's hand rested on Clint's forehead.

"No." Clint refused, "Just sleep."

"Want me to stay?"

"Always." Clint's breath evened out.

The beds were located in the living room, it was just a studio apartment with two large sofa-sleeper.

The older agent settled down on the bed next to the archer, he rested his back against the wall behind him and stared at his fellow agents while his hand rubbed soothing circles over Clint's under arm. The young archer snuggled closer against his handler's warm body.

"The rescue team arrives in two days," Natasha informed him.

"Two days?", Joseph looked at Ricardo.

"I'm fine," she assured. "Coulson knows what he's doing, I'm as good as new."

She looked at the other bed, taking in the scene in front of her.

"You take the first watch." Natasha crawled into bed with Clint and Phil, "You're uninjured."

"Coulson, too," he huffed in amusement.

"He will keep you company but he can't observe the outer area."

"Why is that?", he asked interested.

"He's busy watching us sleep," she curled up next to Phil. Close enough to feel his warmth but not close enough to touch. Snuggling up to their handler at night was reserved for Clint.

Phil laughed and put his free hand on Natasha's shoulder, "Children."

"What are they to you?", Ricardo narrowed her eyes, it was wrong of an handler to use his assets that way.

"Family," Coulson deadpanned.

"Family?" she stated incredulously.

"Exactly."

"Sexual relationships with people under your command is inappropriate." Joseph agreed with Christina.

"Who said anything about sex?", Phil tried not to feel too annoyed for Clint's sake.

"So you want us to believe that you're not fucking your underlings for your own personal pleasure?", they couldn't believe they mistook a forced sexual relationship for friendship.

"Permission to shoot them?", Clint mumbled against Phil's side.

The warm puffs of air made him shiver, "Denied."

"Permission to chain and gag them?", Natasha mumbled sleepily.

"Denied." Phil loved his assets. He loved Natasha as a sister and friend and Barton was his everything.

"Why are you defending him?", Gordon urged.

"Normally I'm the one who's accused of using Coulson." Clint sat up very carefully, "So, what makes you guys think Coulson uses us against our wills?"

"The way you lie there," she raised her brows, clearly stating 'isn't it obvious?'

"Survive a few years in S.H.I.E.L.D and we talk again," Clint laid back down.

"What does that mean?"

"Back off and grant him some rest." Clint got angry, Phil did anything today to keep them safe and that bitch had nothing better to do than insult him, "Years and more single bedrooms than you can count, will do that to you. We trust him. He will keep us safe and he will not murder us in our sleep. That's more than I can say about you. I don't trust you and I'm not sure you're not slitting my throat the moment I close my eyes."

"Woah, calm down man." Joseph raised his hands in surrender, "We got it."

"I'm not tired anymore," Clint groaned.

"Try or I knock you out," Phil threatened.

Clint chuckled, "Sure."

Ricardo glared at them, she played with the thought to report them once they returned to HQ.

"You have a fever," Phil got up to get the first aid kit.

"Phil." Clint frowned, "I don't want to."

"Take them," the older man ordered, "Now."

"Grumpy Bear," Clint muttered while he took the pill Phil gave him.

"We have to lie low for two days, the risk of blood poisoning is too high."

"I know," Clint sighed deeply, "Nick has to work on his rescue plans."

"He does," Natasha agreed.

"We can put dye in his shampoo," Phil suggested.

"Nah, he said he would stay bald. He really didn't look pretty with blond hair." Clint shuddered.

"You bleached his hair?", Gordon asked in shock.

"Yup, he shaved off all his hair."

"Tinkering with his beloved coffee made him angrier than shaving off his hair," Natasha kept her eyes closed.

"Yeah, Nick and decaf is not a good mix." Barton laughed, lightening Phil's heart with it.

"I think getting out alive is the best punishment." Phil got back into bed with his beloved assets. The atmosphere between them was still a little strained and reluctant but it was getting better.

"He loves us."

"That's the only reason we're still alive," a small smirk tugged on Phil's lips.

Her plan to report their behavior to the director just vanished into thin air.

She would keep an eye on them, it was her duty as a fellow agent and woman.

After forty more minutes, Clint finally managed to fall asleep.

Phil watched over his assets for hours until Natasha relieved him from his duty.

He'd watched Joseph like a hawk. Phil didn't trust easily.

He seemed open minded and trusting at times, especially with juniors, but he wasn't.

Clint was special and Natasha wormed her way into his heart with ease.

Clint was still the young man who saved his life and bled out in his arms.

The poor kid who was scared of dying alone.

The stranger with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.

He loved the archer with all he had and hoped he wasn't suffocating the archer with the love he felt just now.

To his relief, Clint didn't show any sign that he noticed the flood of love.

Phil curled up against his archer and trusted Natasha to have his back.

They woke up a few hours later in each other's arms, watched by Ricardo who was glaring daggers at them.

"Geez," Clint yawned, "What's her problem?"

Clint entangled himself from Phil, slightly embarrassed by their open display of affection.

Both men enjoyed the closeness that seemed so out of reach not so long ago.

"She still thinks I'm a monster and now get up, I want to examine your wound."

Clint sat up and turned his arm in Phil's direction.

"Looks good," he cleaned it and wrapped a new bandage around it.

"No more pills," it was a question with more than one meaning and Phil picked up easily on it, "No pills," he confirmed.

When he was honest with himself, he'd missed the archer's presence and to know that Clint cut himself off of all emotions for him was disturbing.

Clint sacrificed everything that defined Clinton Francis Barton.

And he did it for him, Phil Coulson agent extraordinaire, bad-ass and nine years older.

"I want to go home," Clint felt tired, the slow return of his emotions was strenuous.

The love he felt from Phil was worth it.

He wanted to know so badly what kind of love that was.

He hoped it was the 'till death do us part kind of love and not the deep love you harbored for family and close friends, but he didn't dare to ask.

"I know you do," Phil granted him a small smile, "One more day."

"I get us something to eat," Natasha stated before she left. Her red hair was hidden behind a black wig and she wore brown contacts in addition to traditional clothes.

"I hope she gets something good," Clint was hungry.

"It's Natasha we're talking about," Coulson huffed.

"True," Clint smirked, she knew how to get the best food.

"You need more sleep," Phil placed a hand on Clint's forehead.

"I'm not sick," the archer rolled his eyes, Phil could feel that the marksman wasn't even half as annoyed as he pretended to be.

It was more a sense of honor and joy, "You took a bullet to the arm."

"I had worse, under worse conditions."

"Use the rare chance to take it easy," Phil remembered Bolivia and the failed op in Lisbon where Clint took a bullet to the thigh and the target chased them through the city all night "There's nothing to do, anyway."

"How's Ricardo?", he remembered her shot wound.

"Gordon can look at it. I don't want him anywhere near me."

Phil could feel the anger that bubbled inside Clint, "Agent Gordon, would you be so kind and treat Ms. Ricardo's wound?", that was definitely an order.

"Yes, sir." The young man blushed as she dropped her blouse .

She wore a tight undershirt but her breasts were clearly pronounced.

"I think it looks fine, sir, as far as I can say."

Phil came closer but stopped as she sent a deadly glare his way.

He decided to let her suffer in case Gordon was wrong. He wasn't in the mood to fight about sexual harassment.

Clint sighed dramatically and decided to check out her wound, if she wanted to or not.

"She needs antibiotics," the archer poked against the wound and got a pained hiss in return.

Clint taught Gordon what to look for when he examined gunshot wounds, or serious injuries in general.

The kid had most likely never seen a real gunshot wound before.

"I don't need it," she insisted.

"You do and you know that damn well," Clint could see the droplets of sweat on her hairline.

He wasn't patient enough that day to look over her behavior, "Take it or I'll shoot you."

"It's not the time for jokes," she already got a gunshot wound, there was no use in threatening to shoot at her.

"He means KIA," Natasha returned from her food hunt.

Christina looked confused and Gordon shocked.

"He kills you for real," Black Widow deadpanned, "You got hurt, you died, we couldn't retrieve your body, too bad. No questions asked."

"You wouldn't," she narrowed her eyes.

"Challenge him, if you dare," Natasha replied serious.

"I kill him first," she didn't believe one word the redhead said.

Coulson's gaze hardened, "Do I need to remind you that we're your superiors? You lack the skills to harm us in any way."

"I doubt that," she knew she had to learn to keep her big mouth shut. Her last boyfriend told her more than once that her big mouth would get her killed one day.

"Come on guys, we shouldn't fight," Gordon looked slightly panicked.

"Phil, back down," Clint didn't like the way his handler was feeling.

_Does he always feel that way where my life is concerned?_

Clint knew these kind of feelings.

The urge to protect and the rage directed at the people who dared to take away his loved ones.

Ricardo eyed the older man, waiting for the blow to come but to her surprise he did as he was told and backed off. His posture relaxed slightly and his gaze wandered to the red haired woman. Natasha returned her attention to their breakfast.

Christina heard many rumors about Coulson's team.

He tamed the sassy archer who was famous for his behavioral problems.

Other people said the archer was just using Coulson, because of his power and influence, behaving was just a way to get what he wanted.

The older agent was so calm and controlled most of the time that she was sure there was more behind his mask. Most perverts were the ones no one would ever suspect.

People said he was a first class agent and a good man but she was sure something wasn't right.

"Nat, what have you got?", Clint changed the topic, happy that she played along.

"Here," Clint thrust a plate into Coulson's hands, "Eat."

"I am your boss," it sounded serious for people who didn't know him well but Clint knew better and heard the teasing in it.

"Well, would you be so kind and eat your breakfast, sir?"

"Where is your plate?"

Clint sighed, "Bugger," he mumbled while he filled his own plate.

Gordon got his and Christina's plates while Team Coulson ignored them, for the rest of the day.

::::::::::::::

Back at HQ the rumor mill was working on high-speed.

Clint was still a power hungry leech but they added boy toy and whore into the mix.

Coulson on the other hand turned from blind idiot into a pervert, with history as sexual predator. Natasha was Phil's sexy victim.

The women in S.H.I.E.L.D treated him like dirt, no matter how often the older agents tried to set the record straight.

Maria almost throttled a junior agent who got the nerve to ask her if Coulson had ever tried to touch her.

"Sir, permission to kill them?", Clint slumped down onto the couch in Phil's office, while the older agent worked through his paperwork.

"Denied." Clint could feel that his words didn't match his thoughts.

"Should I worry about the smirk?", Phil raised a brow.

"You lied to me but I forgive, because I know you have to deny my request."

"Smart-ass," Phil gave him his blinding only-for-Clint smile.

"Natasha threatened to place a bomb at junior quarters."

"Tell her not to leave a trace."

"As if," Clint chuckled, "Pizza and beer?"

"Chinese and beer?"

"Deal." Clint closed his eyes to nap.

He could hear how Phil stopped to work and he could feel how his handler struggled with his emotions.

Clint felt content and didn't try to hide it.

The warm feeling intensified and Clint's couldn't remember that he ever felt so loved, not even by Barney or his mother.

The warm feeling lulled the archer to sleep, "Thank you," he whispered.

_Thank you? What for? For loving you? For keeping you around? For respecting you?_

_All I do is hurting you, may it be through words or actions. In the field or in private._

_One wrong word here, one evil nutcase there. _

Therefore he hated himself.

Normally, he handled serious situations well but not this time.

He let his own fears rule him; mopping around, guarding his own feelings.

The thought that Clint was just as scared as he was never truly crossed his mind.

He wasn't fair.

"Stop that. Makes me sick," Clint whispered half asleep before he shifted a little and continued to sleep.

That made Phil feel even more guilty.

He returned to his paperwork to prevent making Clint even more uncomfortable.

"What's angering you?", Clint awoke an hour later.

"Ricardo told Nick that she suspected that I'm a pervert."

"He knows the rumor," the archer yawned, "and what took her so long?"

"I don't know," Phil sighed.

Ricardo thought over her decision as she heard that the director despised crimes, especially sexual predators and the likes.

"What does he say?"

Phil could feel amusement with a tiny hint of worry, "He told her to prove it."

"Good luck," Clint huffed, Phil was a honest and a good man.

Maybe the best on earth.

"Thank you for the trust."

"Dirty little secrets I know nothing about?"

The little scare that hit him shook him to the core.

"No, no." Phil read his expression, "I never..."

He gesticulated with one hand.

"But..."

"No but, everyone has secrets. I swear it's nothing illegal or utterly mean."

Clint didn't need to feel anything to know he told the truth.

He could see it in his handler's eyes.

"Can't picture you as a pervert anyway."

Phil smirked, suppressing the urge to say something embarrassing.

Clint's brows raised as high as possible after he figured the feeling out, "Naughty, sir?"

"Of course not specialist, I was born a prude," Coulson deadpanned.

"I bet." Clint laughed, coaxing a gentle smile on his friends face.

"I heard Jasper say that he got us a new assignment."

"I turned it down. Hill will run the operation."

"Why?"

"Do you want to go undercover as a hustler?"

Clint's eyes widened and Phil could feel the shame, disgust and fear.

The older man walked over to the couch and settled down next to the archer, "I hope you're not disgusted of yourself right now," he put an arm around Clint's shoulder, pulling his friend against his side.

"Partly," Clint closed his eyes, concentrating on the positive feelings Coulson harbored for him, pushing the bad memories back into the depths of his mind.

Ricardo stormed into the office, followed by a fellow agent, "Is that your kind of punishment? Making a hustler out of Joseph?"

"What are you talking about junior agent Ricardo?"

"You dumped your op on Hill and she decided on Gordon. Did you bribe her to choose him?"

"Don't talk about things you know a damn about," Clint's voice hardened just like his gaze, "We all have to do things we don't want to at one point or another."

"He's not made for it and you know it."

"Do I?", Phil didn't let go of Clint and both men next to each other looked strangely intimidating and ominous, all at once.

"If I remember correctly we ran exact one mission together. I don't think we had enough time to get to know each other."

"I don't want to know you and your lack of morality," she wanted to protect Joseph.

She liked him very much and felt the strong urge to keep him safe.

"Enough," Clint almost shouted, "I ask you to leave and stay away from us. If you, in any way, endanger my family I'll fulfill my threat and shoot you."

She 'hmpf-ed' as she heard the term family, the young man was truly ready to sell himself for power, "You're disgusting," she turned around and left.

"She's getting on my nerves," Phil tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

"She probably was raped when she was younger or someone she holds dear," Clint shifted and risked it to put an arm around Phil's middle and rest his head against his handler's chest.

To his relieve the older man didn't seem to mind.

Phil readjusted his arm around Clint, "I think that, too. She is projecting her issues on me but she has to learn how to cope with it. If not I have to force her."

"I know you have to but we should grant her more time, though," maybe a little time was all she needed to calm down and see reason.

Phil remained silent and tried to communicate through the bond.

Clint liked that, a lot.

It was nice to know that Phil finally accepted the bond they shared.

Using it to their advantage and communicate without speaking was strange but breathtaking beautiful nonetheless. Not to mention how useful it could be in the future.

"I did it for food. Blowjobs only but it was... disgusting."

Phil tightened his hold around the archer, "It makes me angry that you had to do that. Why didn't you ask youth welfare service for help? Or someone else?"

"The circus became my home and I had the chance to learn so much about archery and swordplay. A few favors seemed to be a low price for food, education and a roof above my head. After that it was just to keep me fed."

Phil decided to drop the topic and communicate through the bond. It felt more personal and meaningful than words. He sent Clint all his respect and understanding, mixed with affection and hope.

The archer closed his eyes, letting Phil feel how much he appreciated his comfort, "I'm glad we finally accept our fate."

"Me, too."

"But I'm still worried that I might hurt you," Clint's emotions were distracting.

"I told you it's not going to happen," Coulson rubbed his hand over Clint's arm.

"I'm an emotional wreck."

"So am I."

"No," Clint denied, "You're normal, I'm not."

"What makes you think that?"

"Nat told me so," he sighed.

"What?", Phil asked scandalized.

"She told me to stay away from you, I know she respected your wish but she said my emotions are..., I- I'm just a wreck."

Natasha was as good as dead, not literally but he would bombard her with paperwork and junior agents until she cried.

"You had a lot to endure. No one expects you to be fine, you'll never be fine. I know that and it's okay. I just had to get used to it. I never felt so much hurt in such a short time," the older man hid the soul deep love.

"I want to be fine," Clint closed his eyes, "I want to be normal."

"What is normal? No one is normal, it's a matter of opinion. You're broken and I intend to fix you and protect you from further harm."

"I know," he truly did.

"Good."


	7. I'll do anything for you

:::::::::::::::::::::::  
"She can't do that," Clint raged, pacing up and down in Phil's office "She has no right to do that."

Ricardo filed a complaint and they had to meet with the investigator team in a few days again, to survey the complaint. Clint and Coulson had their first talk with them that morning and these guys were anything but pleasant.

They had asked about the rumors without any interest in the truth. They took them apart piece by piece.

"She can and she does," Phil pinched the bridge of his nose. He was tired and frustrated.

"I kill her."

"Absolutely not." Phil got up, approaching the archer, slowly.

"She wants to take you away from me," Clint sounded so helpless it tore on Phil's heart, "She will take your job away from you."

"She can take my job but she can't part us," Phil tapped against his chest. They had the bond and their friendship.

"Phil... I-" the alarm echoed through HQ and Nick informed them via ear piece that the shapeshifter they were looking for found his way into HQ.

Phil and Clint split up to form two search parties.

Finding a shapeshifter between thousands of agents was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

"Sir," Sitwell greeted Phil, "We can't find him. I don't even know how to find him."

"Jasper, stay back," Clint pushed Sitwell aside, "That's not Coulson."

He couldn't feel the man in front of him, the stress and worry he felt didn't match the posture of the man who pretended to be Phil.

The 'false' Phil smirked, "Busted."

"You don't stand a chance."

"Try me."

Phil transformed into a red skinned man, pulling out a knife.

His first act was to knock out Jasper before he pounced on Clint.

Clint took his own combat knife, ready to defend what he held dear.

The real Phil could feel Clint's fear and determination as Sitwell called him, asking for help.

He ran as fast as he could, praying to arrive in time.

The red skinned man transformed again, this time into a burly dark skinned man with skin as hard as iron.

Agents streamed into the hall, firing at the shapeshifter but to no avail.

Clint's knife broke as it made contact with the solid skin. He was better than Mystic could ever be.

Three of the stronger agents tried to pounce on the guy as Hawkeye went down after a hit to the temple, but he defeated them easily and there was nothing the archer could do.

A young female agent tried to help him but she got a fist to the stomach, Barton's mind raced how to protect her. He blinked a few times to get rid of the dark spots, dancing in front of his eyes, before he got up and headed for her to protect her with his body.

The man used his chance to hit Clint in the face and stab him in the neck, above the collarbone.

A shot rang out as the guy turned back into his real form with the intention to transform into something else.

Many more agents gathered in the hall by the time Phil arrived, watching while his friend fought desperately for his life and their safety.

Coulson used the chance to shoot the guy as he transformed back, he knew he had to be fast and time the shot or else they all were doomed.

"Clint," Phil dropped on his knees, shedding his jacket to put pressure on the wound.

"Don't die on me," Phil babbled desperately, "Don't die, keep fighting. EMT's are on their way."

Phil's jacket was soaked with blood. The sheer panic they shared tore their hearts apart.

Clint was scared to die, he was scared to leave without Phil to guide him and he was scared what would happen to Phil when he wasn't around.

Phil on the other hand was scared to lose the man he loved most, he was scared to lead a life without the archer around.

Clint struggled for each breath, "Phil," he mouthed.

He could feel the blood in his throat and the gurgling sound he made was even for his own ears disturbing.

"I'm here," Phil's eyes shined with unshed tears, "I'm not leaving you, but you can't leave me either. I need you."

Tears streamed down Clint's face, he knew he had to die. His time was up but at least Phil was there to say goodbye and guide him the last few steps before they had to part for a long time.

The sadness and resignation Clint felt broke Phil's heart even more and he couldn't suppress his tears anymore, he was too stubborn to let all of them fall but the few he shed were bitter. He didn't want to hide them anymore, "I love you," he said huskily, "I love you."

He let go of his emotions, flooding Clint with all his love and devotion.

It was more than Clint dared to dream of, he sent his own feelings for Phil back. Together with some happiness about the fact that the older man returned his feelings.

"I'm glad you love me, too, I didn't dare to hope that we could be more than friends," the agent bent forward, pressing his lips against Clint's. Tasting the blood of his beloved Hawk.

"I'm so sorry, I can't protect you this time."

Clint assured him that it was okay. He raised a hand, placing it on Phil's cheek, "Thank you, love... you," he moved his lips slow to make sure Phil could read his lips.

Clint knew it wasn't necessary but he wanted to say it, he had to say it before he died.

He felt how his strength ran short.

Barton regretted that they never got the chance to be a real couple. He regretted leaving Phil behind and he regretted that he would never know how it was to be in a loving relationship, growing old together with the man he adored.

They knew the chance that they died long before their time was real and the knowledge was constantly in their minds but now that the time had come, it seemed so unfair.

"I will miss you," Phil choked out, "I will always miss you, and I will always love you. Wait for me, okay? I'm following soon."

Clint tried to argue but he couldn't. The thought of Phil dying scared him but at the same time it warmed his heart and eased some of his fears to know that he wouldn't be alone for long.

They would lie side by side on the graveyard. United for all eternity.

"I know you're scared. I'm scared, too," Phil stroke through his archer's short hair, "I love you," he kissed him again. He could feel how Clint's presence within his soul faded.

Watching him die was the hardest thing Phil ever had to do.

Clint couldn't bear Phil's desperation and the sheer agony the older man had to endure but he wasn't strong enough to fight any longer. He had no other choice than letting go.

The EMT's had to drag Phil away from Clint by force.

Coulson stared at them, he kneeled on the ground with two burly agents next to him, one on each side. They made sure the older agent stayed where he was.

Natasha arrived at the scene, not believing her eyes "Phil," she choked out.

"He's dying and there's nothing I can do," Phil whispered apathetically.

She kneeled down next to him, with tears in her eyes, "Don't give up on him."

Natasha took him into her arms, "He's strong."

"Deuce thrust a knife into his neck," Coulson's voice grew stronger, filled with rage.

She swallowed hard, "We can't give up, we have... we have to believe or something," she tried to wipe the blood from Phil's face. Natasha never had seen him shed tears before; it was devastating.

"He gave up, how can I believe. Look at all the blood..."

She squeezed her eyes shut, she didn't want to look at it.

"He's leaving me. He loves me but he can't stay."

"You confessed?", she sniffed barely audible.

"We could have had it all."

There was nothing she could say to make him feel better. No words on earth could take away the pain the death of a loved person caused.

"Come," she helped him up and they followed the EMT's which desperately fought for Hawkeye's life.

::::::::::::::

Against all odds Clint survived the way to medical and surgery but his condition was still critical.

Phil held vigil for 73 hours by now, holding Clint's hand. Praying to a god he never truly believed in until Thor appeared on earth.

No one was able to get him to leave. Nick had brought him new clothes, forcing him to take a shower and Natasha forced him to eat. It was just a sandwich but better than nothing at all.

The nurses decided to leave him be the moment he entered med bay.

He was soaked in blood and lost in his own mind, his hands shook and his eyes were red rimmed. They'd never seen a handler break that way with the loss of one of his agents.

They fussed over him, analyzing his body language to guess what he needed or what they should say to offer at least some comfort.

"The investigators want to talk with you," Natasha peeked into the room, "I can keep watch while you talk to them."

"I don't want to."

"You have to."

Phil narrowed his eyes and got up, storming out of the room.

He went into meeting room 6 without a knock, "You want to talk? Then talk!"

"Agent Coulson we have a few more questions about your relationship with agent Barton."

"Yes, I confess," he mocked. "We are an item and we will not break up because you or a paranoid junior agent deny us our happiness. You want my badge? You can have it. I'm not staying without him by my side. If I have to choose between him and you, I will choose him and no one will ever find us. Have a nice day."

Phil turned around and left as fast as he came, bumping into Ricardo on his way out.

Leaving five stunned men and women behind.

Ricardo watched him walk away, he'd ignored her and didn't apology for barging into her.

Coulson was angry beyond words, he could literally feel his blood boil.

"What was that all about?", she frowned.

"He just informed us that he and specialist Barton are in a serious relationship and he resigns from his position should we try to part them."

She had witnessed Coulson's breakdown days ago as Barton got hurt.

"What can we do for you, agent Ricardo?"

"I want to take back my complaint. I was wrong."

"We drop the matter and return back to Washington."

"Yes, sirs. I'm sorry for causing so much trouble," she gave them a curt smile and left.

The incident three days ago had opened her eyes for what was truly going on between the members of Coulson's team.

Black Widow wasn't in danger at all, she was just loved by the people around her.

They kept her safe without ulterior motives, they kept her safe because she was a member of Coulson's team.

The senior agent cared for his underlings, maybe more than he should but in a good way nonetheless.

Barton wasn't using his boss for his own career, he behaved and followed him around like a lost puppy because he adored the man who seemed to respect him.

She'd tried to gather information about all three of them and was less than happy with what she found within the records she hacked into.

Romanoff and Barton were orphans with a hideous past. Used, abandoned, handed around and abused. She could imagine what more they had to endure before Coulson entered their life, taking them under his wings.

Coulson was obviously a very good man, tough and a perfect agent.

She felt one hell of remorse for what she'd done to them.

Ricardo took all her guts together and walked down to medical.

She knocked and entered the archer's room "Sir?"

"What do you want?" Natasha was out of her chair in an instant.

"Wait," Phil ordered, "Let her talk."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you," Christina swallowed hard, the Black Widow was frightening, "I came to apologize and ask how agent Barton is doing?!"

"He's not dead, yet." Phil didn't look at her, his eyes were glued to the archer.

She studied the still form on the bed. His skin was white like the sheets but the heart monitor was beeping steadily. She didn't know him well but the silence and his lack of movements felt utterly wrong.

"I projected my negative experiences with superiors at you. I misunderstood your intentions and... I wasn't fair and I'm sorry."

"Being sorry is not going to change anything," Natasha hissed.

"You scared the hell out of him." Phil looked at her with his red rimmed eyes, "You tried to take his family away from him. You tried to take me away from him."

The broken look on the agent's face felt like a punch to the gut, "I didn't know."

"You never tried."

"I should go," she hurried away, tears of guilt streaming down her face.

"You're too nice to her."

"Clint wouldn't want me to crush her," Phil remembered their talk about her a while ago.

Sure he was angry at her before he got stabbed but on the other hand he knew how she felt.

Natasha took a deep, calming breath before she returned to her seat.

::::::::::::::::::

Clint heard a loud beeping noise and the smell of the penetrating disinfectant S.H.I.E.L.D was using confirmed his suspicion.

At least he knew where he was but he couldn't remember why.

"Clint?", Phil could feel a sense of fear and confusion, "You're in med bay, you got hurt last week."

Clint remembered, Deuce, the young agent, getting stabbed, their love confession.

_Oh, god. Is it real? _

"Calm down," Phil caressed his archer's cheek, "you scared me," he placed a gentle kiss on Clint's forehead. Answering his mental question.

The archer opened his eyes, the bright light burned in his eyes for a long moment before he could focus on the man next to him.

"Hey," he whispered. His neck hurt when he talked.

"Hey," Coulson smiled down at him, shedding a few tears of relief.

Worry hit Phil like a punch, "I'm fine but you're not."

"Bad?"

"You almost died. Your heart denied to work properly at two occasion during surgery but you made it. You need a lot more rest, though."

"And you?", his boss looked horrible. Emotionally drained, eyes puffy from crying and lack of sleep and he looked thinner than Clint remembered him to be.

"Now, I'm fine." Coulson let out a heavy sigh, his lover didn't seem to have brain damage from the lack of oxygen but he wasn't a doctor.

Clint squeezed Phil's hand and closed his eyes, he was too tired to stay awake.

Phil's love and silent comfort lulled him back to sleep.

He slept for six hours before he awoke the second time but fell asleep barely ten minutes later.

Clint was in and out of it for two more days before he was well and coherent enough to stay awake.

"You can leave," Clint eyed the tired agent next to him.

"I don't want to. Nick grants me unpaid personal leave."

"Unpaid?", the archer felt guilty for his lover's loss of money.

"It's my choice," Phil smiled at him. "I want to be here, and he did that so we can spend as much time together as we want without anyone questioning us."

"I think you should sleep in your own bed for a while. Take a long hot shower, eat something delicious and then you can come back. I'm not going anywhere."

"I showered while you were asleep and Tasha forced me to eat Chinese."

"Sleep?"

"I prefer watching you," the older man confessed, blushing a little.

"You can't sleep," Clint realized.

Phil remained silent.

"What do you see when you close your eyes?", he knew what Phil was seeing but he wanted him to talk about it.

"You."

"Wearing a thong, in your bed?"

Clint was surprised that the strongest emotion in Phil's heart was sadness.

His joke didn't trigger a sense of humor or relief, or something like that. It just made him sadder.

"Phil," Clint tried to get up but Phil pushed him gently down.

"Don't get up before your doc gives his okay."

"When did it ever stop me."

"Listen to them," Phil stared deep into his archer beautiful eyes, "I think I loved you the moment we met." He caressed Clint's cheek.

"I was bleeding out back then."

"Your eyes caught my attention. I tried to find you but I couldn't and then you waltzed through my door, slowly intruding my heart and soul."

"I tried to get information, too, but everyone I asked about a gentle dark-haired agent with clear blue eyes told me I dreamt. That my mind made up the fact that someone actually cared for me. But I knew better. Then I heard your voice guiding me through a mission for the first time. My handler was so pissed that your name was declared classified. I meant it when I said I thank you. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do," Phil's feature lightened, "and you never have to thank me for watching over you."

Clint smiled, "You deserve it anyway."

"Sleep. You need more rest," Coulson placed a gentle kiss on his lover's forehead.

Clint hummed in agreement and dozed off instantly.

Phil couldn't take his eyes off his archer.

It was hard to believe that the beautiful younger man loved him.

Coulson was older, an agent through and through, and not able to show what he truly felt.

Sure he got better at it during the time they worked together but he wasn't convinced that it was enough.

Sharing feelings was one thing but saying it out loud something entirely else.

People needed to hear things like 'I love you', 'I need you' or 'I'm glad I have you' more often than just during their stays in med bay, or while bleeding out in the field.

Phil wasn't sure he could give him that.

Normally they only did it when shit hit the fan.

Sometimes not even then.

"You're thinking too much," Clint watched his handler.

Coulson was so unfocused that he didn't notice Clint's watchful gaze.

The archer didn't like the expression on his handler's handsome face.

"Sometimes it's important."

"Making choices without me?"

"No," Phil said offended. "I'm not leaving you," he knew the feeling Clint was broadcasting.

It was the kind of fear that filled your heart the moment you realize that someone you love was going to leave you behind.

"Are you sure?", Clint's low self-esteem was stronger than his trust in Phil.

"Of course I'm sure," well done Philip, now you have to say something about your feelings. He chided himself.

"What scares you then?"

"My feelings," good, he praised himself, time for the next step, "I'm not good at expressing what I feel with words. I worry that I can't say what you need to hear."

"You already told me what I need to know," Clint assured with a honest smile on his lips.

"But once in a lifetime is not enough," Phil shook his head.

"You told me more than once," the archer replied with a cheeky grin.

"You know what I mean," Phil said nonchalantly.

"I know but I don't want you to feel like you have to say it all the time. Once in a while is enough. Really."

"But it's not for me," the older agent denied, "You deserve to hear it. You deserve my honesty and you deserve to be treasured."

"But that's exactly what you do. You took me in and you make me feel like I belong to your team. You gave me a home and you protect me. Tell me what more could you do? It's by far more than I ever expected to have."

"We will fight."

"We will make up."

"We won't truly talk about it."

"Because we know each other well."

"We have to talk about problems at one point."

"And we will when the time comes."

"Are you sure?", Phil was scared that their relationship could collapse like a house of cards.

"We actually did talk sometimes. I mean a sorry is enough for me."

Phil exhaled loudly, "You win."

"Good." Clint patted the mattress next to him, "Get some sleep."

Phil shook his head, "The bed is too small." He was scared to hurt his beloved archer.

"Get your ass in bed or I make you."

Coulson knew Clint wasn't in any condition where he could carry out his threat but with Clint you could never know.

So he obeyed and settled down next to the archer, "Sleep well."

"I always sleep well with you by my side."

"Good to know." Phil put an arm around Clint's middle and fell asleep shortly after.

Clint snuggled closer into the embrace and permitted himself to sleep.

The nurses gathered at the entrance door with happy smiles on their faces.

Seemed like Coulson's world was in order again.

:::::::::::::

"Take it easy, Barton," Phil regretted granting the archer some time at the firing range.

He wasn't well enough.

"I missed," Clint's jaw dropped, "Sir, I missed," he looked at his handler with wide, surprised eyes.

"No wonder." Phil placed a hand on the archer's cheek, "How many fingers?", he held up four.

Clint blinked a few time to focus, "Four?"

"You need rest." That was an order mixed with worry.

"But I missed," he whispered.

"It doesn't count. You can't see correctly because of the strain you force onto yourself. You just got released, you have to be patient." The main reason they released him was that Barton was a pain in the ass.

"I know," but he loved his bow.

Fellow comrades were staring at them, the rumor mill was waiting for more input.

"Come with me," Phil guided his archer back to his office. "Lie down and sleep," he gestured at the sofa.

"I'm not tired," he slept enough the last nine days.

"You are tired," Phil pushed him onto the couch, "Sleep or I call Natasha and she'll knock you out."

"Hitting an already hurt man is low," Clint glared half-heartedly.

"Who said something about hitting?", Phil raised a brow, "She has the best tranquilizer hidden in her bra."

The archer narrowed his eyes, "How do you know where she hides the tranquilizer," normally he was offended that someone wanted to force drugs on him but not this time. This time he felt jealous about the fact that Coulson mentioned her bra.

Phil looked stunned, "Tell me you don't know where she hides it."

He couldn't, Clint knew where she hid it. She got special underwear shortly after she finished basic training and the three of them lived in confined space more than once.

And as their handler Coulson probably had to know everything about his assets, even what kind of special underwear S.H.I.E.L.D provides them with. As embarrassing as it was it was still part of their uniform, kind of.

The relief and embarrassment the archer felt calmed Coulson down.

It was nice to know that Clint was one of the jealous kind, though.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." Phil was a jealous bastard himself.

The archer yawned and closed his eyes.

"Do you need anything?", Phil kissed his lover's forehead.

"Just you," the archer sighed before his breath evened out.

Phil made himself comfortable behind his desk, his chair wasn't the most comfy but he knew the tricks by now.

His gaze wandered to the archer's sleeping form every few minutes while he worked through the stack of papers next to his computer screen.

Clint seemed so peaceful in his sleep but Phil wasn't a fool, okay was not often a fool.

He could see the barely visible lines of worry and stress around the archer's eyes.

The small frown that appeared every so often, indicating that his dreams were everything but peaceful. He didn't the bond to know all that, but the bond made it easier to read him, though.

"Clint?" a pang of fear hit him and for the first time, during the last weeks, it wasn't his own.

He was out of his chair in an instant, crouching down next to the archer "Love, wake up."

Clint stirred, blinking his sleepiness away.

"It was just a bad dream," Coulson caressed his archer's cheek with the knuckles of his fingers.

"Dreamt, I lost you," he was still unfocused.

"I almost lost you, not the other way around," Phil chuckled sadly.

"You're fine...", it was partly a question and partly a statement, filled with relief.

"I'm fine."

"But not there," he tapped with his index finger against Phil's temple, "I can feel it at night."

Coulson feared that he was broadcasting his inner turmoil the moment he fell asleep and now he got the proof.

"But I will be," Phil assured, "give me some time."

"Is it my fault?" fear burned in Clint's eyes, "Am I making you unhappy? I can hide my emotions, so they won't bother you..., or I-..."

Phil hushed him up with a soft kiss to the lips, "They're my own. I need your emotions you're still with me and mostly well."

Clint sighed deeply, "We have to work on your guilt trips."

"I know," Phil couldn't get rid of the nightmares.

The experiment, the time after that and especially almost losing his beloved asset.

"Move in with me," the older man blurted out.

Now, Clint was fully awake and stunned.

Phil regretted asking and tried desperately to find a way to take his offer back.

"I'd love to," Clint interrupted his lover's train of thoughts.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Clint cupped Phil's cheek with one of his hands, tracing the line of his cheekbone with his thumb.

"I have to finish a few more reports before we can go," Phil leaned into the touch.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm not sure I can walk out of here on my own two feet."

"I shouldn't have let you train with your bow," Phil said, guilt clear in his eyes.

"Not your fault. I skipped my meds."

"Again?"

"I hate the fuzzy feeling."

"I know you do but they're important. Just two more days."

"It scares me that you didn't notice I skipped them," his handler, normally forced them on him and the fact that he forgot about it worried him deeply. It showed how out of it Couslon was.

"That's what's bothering you all day?"

"I thought I made my point clear that I worry about you," Clint felt hurt.

"I didn't think you'd notice that anything was wrong just because I didn't ask if you've taken your meds."

"It's not only that, or the bond we share," Clint let his fingertips ghost over his handler's face.

"The lines around your eyes, the lack of positive feelings in your eyes, your posture, the way you speak, the way you treat fellow agents, the way you play with your pen when you think I'm not watching,..."

"Okay, I understand." Phil gave him a loving smile. It were the small, barely noticeable things than spoke louder than words ever could.

He noticed the same things whenever he took the time to study his Hawk's mood.

"Let's talk about it at home, okay?"

"Okay," Clint agreed, even though he knew they wouldn't.

"Sleep some more, I'll wake you."

The archer nodded, listening to the sounds Phil made while he typed the report.

He listened a long time before he fell asleep again.

:::::::::::::::::

Two days passed before they finally had to talk about the thing between them.

Phil awoke with a start, drenched in sweat and screaming Clint's name after one of his many nightmares.

Clint sat cross-legged on the other side of the bed, watching his scared lover.

"You can't go on like this," he said in the dark.

"How long are you watching me?" Phil was embarrassed.

"Two hours and thirteen minutes."

"You need your rest," Coulson chided.

"You, too," he couldn't ignore it any longer, he knew how difficult it would be for Phil when they went on like he wasn't tossing and turning around in bed ever night, waking up screaming Clint's name.

Better now than later. The longer they waited the more Phil's demons would strengthen within his mind until the point it would become part of his personality or worse, he would break.

"Tell me about it," the archer moved closer to Phil, pulling him down until his head rested on Clint's legs.

"I saw him stab you and you died in my arms," there was blood everywhere. Clint's lifeless eyes stared at him and he could hear a voice in his head, telling him that he failed, that he killed the archer due to his stupidity.

The worst part was that Phil felt that the voice was right.

It was his fault, it was all his fault.

"I'm not dead," Clint reminded him, "We're alive and together. You protected me as best as you could. I mean you killed Deuce, and for me getting hurt,... there was nothing you could have done to save me."

"It doesn't feel that way," Phil confessed.

"I know it doesn't but you have to remember what you have done for me. You came as fast as you could. You shot him before he could finish me off for sure. You cared for me while I thought I have to die. You offered me comfort and your love. You spent days next to my bed, watching over me. You told the investigators to fuck off, risking your career. You got me out of medical and offered me a home. You did all that within the last three weeks. I could tell you how great you are the whole night, or longer."

"I hurt you after the experiment. I hurt you with my moods,... I-"

"Shut up," Clint hissed, "Don't you dare disregarding yourself. I can count the days you, accidently, hurt me on one hand. To count what good you have done I'd need a calculator."

"You make me sound like some kind of hero," Phil huffed.

"You are a hero. You are my hero," Clint replied, "You are my life."

Phil let go of his emotions and permitted himself to weep. His fears and sadness grew too heavy to hold back anymore.

Clint bent forward, putting his arms around Phil, shielding him from the world.

Coulson's sadness broke his heart.

"It's okay my love, let it all out," Clint brushed his lips over Phil's tear stained cheek.

Phil couldn't remember the last time he cried so hard. It could be the day his parents died in an accident when he was little, maybe not even then.

Sure he had wept bitter tears, missing his mommy and daddy, but he was too small to fully understand the impact.

It affected him and formed the protective side of his personality but it seemed do far away now. He had his aunt back then who offered comfort as best she could, but who was left now?

No one was left when Clint would be gone.

Whether Natasha nor Nick could hold him here, in the world of living.

Clint was all he had, all he wanted and all he needed.

His childish smile when he was happy.

His gentle smile, which was reserved for Phil.

His adoring smile, he only used for agent Coulson in his best bad-ass mood.

Clint as an insecure and broken child within the body of an adult, seeking love and protection.

Phil had decided a long time ago that he'd provide just that, love and protection.

The archer needed him as much as Phil needed his archer. He could feel it bright and clear.

"You do know you're my everything, right?" Phil got over his pride and fears, and expressed what he was feeling.

"I know it now," he wasn't sure for a while, he feared the bond had destroyed what they had.

"Never doubt and never forget," Phil breathed heavily, tears still found their way down his cheeks.

"Don't worry. All I have to do in case I forget is listening to your heart and soul."

Phil tried desperately to stop his tears and hide his pitiful sobs.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Phil." Clint kissed Phil's cheek, moving his lips against his handler's hot and tear stained skin.

"I almost lost you and that scares the hell out of me."

"I know that feeling. Do you remember Minsk? Of course you do. You had a bad concussion and a broken shin. We hid for three days, I think they were the three longest days of my life. I was so scared you'd broken your hard head; and I wasn't sure you could keep your leg, at least not fully functional."

"You fussed over me like a mother-hen," Phil chuckled sadly. He had never seen the archer so god damn nervous during a mission.

"I was scared and had every right to," Clint pouted.

"I lost count on the times you scared me."

"Liar," Clint said gently, "You know exactly how many times. You don't forget things like that," he was 100 percent sure.

"Six times, worried. Very worried. Five times, scared. Nine times close to an heart attack and one time absolutely terrified. Two times, when I include our very first meeting but back then it was probably more pity and sadness for the poor dying kid in my arms."

"Nine times almost an heart attack?" Clint couldn't remember so many incidents.

"You almost broke your neck while your nest collapsed beneath you. You got shot in the chest, your vest barely provided enough protection. You got lost in Mozambique.

You fell off a plane with a defect parachute, how you managed that and survived is still a riddle to me. You almost suffocated in a safe. You almost got roasted in an explosion. You lost most of your hearing after your new sonic arrow malfunctioned. You barely survived a serious case of pneumonia."

"My injuries weren't serious," Clint stated.

"Did you just listen?"

"I did."

"Imagine it would have been me," Phil sniffed, rubbing his eyes.

"I give in," Clint surrendered.

"Thought so," Phil took a shaky breath.

"Let's try to sleep. You need it," Clint let go of Phil and lay back down before he pulled Phil half on top of himself.

"Good night," Phil's head rested on his archer's chest.

"Good night Phil," Clint stroke through his handler's soft hair until the older man fell asleep.

He enjoyed the knowledge that his gentle caresses soothed most of Phil's pain away.


	8. Understanding the Hawk's soul

::::::::::::::

"Welcome back, specialist," Nick greeted his favorite asset, "How are you?"

"Fine, sir." Clint smiled, "Thank you for taking care of agent Coulson while I couldn't."

"You're welcome," the director nodded, "Where is your better half?"

"Scaring junior agents, sir."

"Again?", he raised a brow.

"Always, sir," the archer smirked.

"What have they done?"

"Lack of commonsense, sir."

"They filled out the wrong forms, again?"

Clint laughed, "Not this time but they aren't cut out to be paper pusher."

"I tell him you called him paper pusher," Nick threatened.

"Only a part-time paper pusher, sir."

"Uh-hu," Nick clicked his tongue.

"They blew the op due to stupid mistakes."

"How stupid?"

"Sneeze loudly while hiding. Not ducking while a gun is pointed in your direction. Not listening to your commanding officer because of private chatter. That kind of stupid."

Fury groaned, "What are they, six?"

"Does that make me the grown up?", Clint gave him his best puppy dog eyes.

"Hardly," Nick said gruff.

"What do you need me for?", they might be friends but such an approach always ended with a request.

"What gave me away?", the fact that the archer knew him so well was unnerving.

Clint shrugged nonchalantly.

"Vega needs a sniper."

"Do I know him?", he couldn't remember the name.

"He's rather knew but a good man."

"Did you talk to Phil?"

"I'm the director."

"He's the only one who can handle me," Clint deadpanned.

"You're going."

"Yes, sir." Clint grinned despite the fact that he disliked the order.

"You're doing it on purpose."

"Doing what, sir?" Clint asked cheekily.

"You're a pain in the ass."

"I know. When do we leave?"

"Report to him in an hour," Fury rolled his eyes.

"Do me a favor."

"Depends on what you want," Nick said wearily.

"You're telling Phil about it," Clint was looking forward to the death glare Phil used when he was pissed. It was sexy; when it wasn't directed at him.

"You're enjoying this," Nick looked right through him, "You're a sick and twisted man, Mr. Barton."

"I'm hurt," Clint placed a hand above his heart.

"You're not," Fury was annoyed in sick, fond, way.

"True." Clint's features hardened, "Permission to leave, sir?"

Sometimes the archer showed Nick the respect he deserved, especially when agents were approaching.

Nick saw them turn around the corner after Clint used his poster boy attitude.

It amazed him every time how good Barton's hearing was, even though he was as good as deaf without his hearing aids.

S.H.I.E.L.D provided him with their best implants, top secret of course, to hide the fact that the marksman was vulnerable. The disadvantage was long and difficult surgeries in case they malfunctioned or get destroyed but the advantage was that the enemy couldn't use it against him the moment his cover got blown, because they weren't visible at all.

The scar close to his ears were so small that they didn't attract attention.

"Dismissed, specialist." Nick winked at his friend and left.

"Oh, agent Barton," an agent blushed, she couldn't take her eyes of the man's neck, "Nice to have you back."

"Thank you," he lied with ease. He wasn't sure what to think about her.

"We thought you wouldn't make it. I'm glad we were wrong," a young man nodded at Clint.

"I don't remember knowing you."

"You don't know us but we saw what happened a while ago," the memory made her stomach churn.

"You're the one who tried to protect me," Clint spied a woman behind three others.

"Yes, sir." She nodded.

"Thank you," this time he meant it.

"I have to thank you, sir. You saved my life,... and almost lost your own."

"You're welcome," Clint eyed her, "It's not your fault. He would have gotten me any way."

"Sir?" the young man frowned.

"He was stronger than I. It was just a matter of time," he didn't stand a chance.

"Does that mean,... you knew you'd die?" the man asked.

"I hoped to survive but close to the end I had to accept that it wasn't an option," the archer shrugged.

"How are you doing this? Almost dying and talk about it like it's nothing."

"I don't want to die. I don't want to lose. I want to live, I want to spent much more time with my family but life ain't fair. I knew this could happen when I signed the contract. Not even being a civilian is safe. There is no such place on earth. Hard as it is, we have to use the time we get, there's possibly no tomorrow." He walked away leaving stunned agents behind.

"Barton wait." Hill had listened to their conversation.

"What can I do for you Hill?", he looked over his shoulder.

She didn't know what to say, she called out to him to..., yeah, to what? "Have you seen Phil?"

"We're meeting in the mess hall,... in ten minutes," he looked at his watch. Phil was usually on time.

"Mind if I tag along?"

"Not at all, ma'am."

She nodded and followed him. Maria realized that she got used to the young man, even his noisy and nerve-wrecking side. It was too silent and boring without him around. HQ and the Helicarrier lacked a huge amount of life during his absence.

Hill started to understand what Coulson saw in the archer. He had by far more depth than they gave him credit for. He was friendly beneath his I-don't-care attitude and very sensible.

"I heard you join Vega?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You don't sound happy."

"Should I?" Vega wasn't Coulson.

"He's a good man," she assured.

"Doesn't mean he can handle me," all he expected was respect and the will to keep agents alive.

"I think he can," she wasn't 100 percent sure but it could work.

"Oh," Clint stopped, placing a hand above his heart.

"Barton?" she worried, "Are you sick?"

"I think the director has nothing to laugh about, right now."

"What?", she heard about the bond and saw Phil react to it once but she didn't understand the full meaning.

"He's pissed. Very pissed," it was nice that Phil loved to keep him around.

"You can feel all that?"

"Yes, he's angry beyond words and worried; and frustrated."

"Sounds like Phil," she joked.

A loving smile, she never saw before, appeared on Barton's handsome face.

His smile spoke volumes about his feelings for Coulson.

For the first time in her life she was glad that she was wrong about Barton and his intentions.

"You truly love him, do you?"

"Yes," he said honest, there was no use in lying. A sense of surprise hit Clint at his confession.

He must have sent more love and devotion through the bond than he thought.

"I'm glad," she confessed, "He deserves love."

"He deserves more than that," this time he surprised Maria.

"What more is there to give?"

"I'll give anything for him. My love, my devotion, my loyalty, my freedom, my life...," he summarized.

She eyed him for a while before she came to the conclusion that he meant what he said.

"Is there nothing for you out there?" she pointed at the windows and the outer world.

His gazes saddened, "No."

"Family, friends,...,"

"All dead." It was the truth.

Her face fell, "All of them?"

"All of them, or as good as dead." Drugs, prostitution, jail, life as a criminal, "I'm an orphan, vice director. I have nowhere to go." He hurried away, not in the mood to spent more time with her.

She watched him leave with a thoughtful look on her face.

:::::::::::::

Clint made a few new friends during dinner while he waited for Phil to join him.

Jason and Julia got transferred from Washington to join their team of analysts.

Bethany would be Phil's new secretary.

Seemed like he pissed off Nick even before his outburst that day.

"What is your job?" Jason asked interested. The man didn't look like an agent, in his cargo pants and black sweater.

"This and that," Clint shrugged, "I spent most of my time up there." He pointed at the ceiling.

"Ah, you're the janitor." Julia smiled at him, an honest smile without a hint of humor in it, "My father was a janitor. He loved his job."

"Do you know Mr. Coulson?" Bethany asked cautiously. She was shy and not someone Phil could treat too harsh.

"I do," he smiled at her, "Don't worry, he's a little gruff but a good guy."

"I hope you're right," she didn't smile back.

She was pretty with her curly black hair and beautiful dark skin. Clint guessed that she was around thirty.

"Trust me," the archer offered her his dessert. She could use some extra chocolate to calm her nerves.

"So, you two are analysts?" Clint changed the topic, eying the two agents opposite him.

"Yes, we gather information and puzzle the pieces together. We provide the teams with information and keep them safe."

"Keep them safe?", that was new.

"Wrong conclusions get agents killed so we provide only the truth." Jason seemed to believe in what he said.

"I saw an agent die because of wrong information, on your part. Or rather your soon to be colleagues."

"We can't do magic," she shrugged, "but keeping 99 percent of the agents safe is worth a lot."

"It's 1 percent too much," Clint had seen many good agents die; and he was almost one of them on more than once occasion.

"I heard that a shapeshifter intruded HQ," Jason ignored Clint.

"That's correct. Our analysts didn't see that one coming. S.H.I.E.L.D almost lost Hawkeye."

"What happened to him, what did you call him? Hawkeye," Jason didn't know a damn about Clint.

"Got stabbed in the neck. Almost died from blood loss," Clint hid his emotions from his voice.

"He survived?" Bethany gasped in sympathy.

"He did. His handler saved his life."

"Is that even possible?" Bethany frowned.

"He cared for his asset and held his hand while the man bled out in his arms. I think his encouragement and hope was what kept his asset alive."

"Sounds like a good man."

"The fault of the analyst department, nonetheless," Clint mocked.

"Yeah-yeah, I get your point. We aren't unfailing," Julia said annoyed, "But we can be, wait and see."

"Believe me I will watch you like a Hawk," he smiled at them.

Clint felt Phil arrive, he listened to the noises and was sure Natasha stood to Phil's left.

"Agent Barton," Phil hollered, smooth and strong.

"Coming, sir." Clint got up and joined Phil. He whispered something in the older agents ear before he pointed at Bethany.

Phil eyed the people on the table Clint had shared with them a minute ago.

He walked over to them, "Specialist Barton informed me that you're my new secretary?"

"Y-Yes, sir," she gulped, he was frightening.

His gaze softened, "Meet me in my office in,..." he looked at his watch, "half an hour."

"Yes, sir," she smiled at him.

"Specialist?" Jason looked offended, "I thought you're the janitor."

Phil huffed, "Care to explain?"

"I just said I spent most of my time up there," he pointed at the ceiling again, "they concluded I'm a janitor."

"Great addition to the analyst department," Phil glared.

"Not our fault," Julia crossed her arms in front of her chest, "We didn't have enough info."

"That's what gets our own killed on a regular basis." Natasha sized them up.

"Oh, I understand Agents and analysts don't like each other. Okay, we can do that to," Jason mocked.

"We just need to know that you take your job seriously," Phil interfered.

"We are good at what we do," Julia assured self-confident.

"Good," Phil looked at Clint, "Are you well enough for a mission?"

"Yes, sir. Don't worry," he hoped he was right.

"It's your first mission since they cleared you for duty," _and I can't be there for you._

"I'm fine, Coulson."

Phil eyed him for a long time before he clenched his fist and took a swing at Clint.

The archer ducked smoothly and dodged every hit with a huge smile on his face.

"Told you I'm fine," Clint stated proudly.

"Had to make sure," Clint was a great liar.

"Kids, I'm hungry," Natasha rolled her eyes at them.

"You can help me with my paperwork," Phil's eyes glittered in amusement; Clint snickered.

"Not fair," she huffed, "Clint do something. Bribe him with,... , whatever it is you do."

"You brought it upon yourself," the archer grinned broadly.

"I hate you," she pouted.

"Love you, too." Clint pecked her on the cheek.

"Behave like adults or else I punish both of you with more paperwork than you can handle in three days."

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

"I get an headache," he grumbled while he turned around and headed for the buffet.

"Hawkeye, Black Widow, NOW."

They winced, "Yes, daddy, " they mumbled.

"Did he just say Hawkeye?" Jason whispered to Julia.

"He did."

"He doesn't look dangerous."

"Maybe the reason he got stabbed, if that is even true," Julia doubted the story.

::::::::::::::::::::

"I ran a background check on Vega," Phil said while they ate.

"Any juicy secrets?" Clint joked but Coulson knew the archer tried to calm him down.

"He's clean," Natasha stated. "He seems like a good man."

"Good," Clint sighed with relief, "No need to worry then."

"He's too green for my liking." Phil swallowed his pie.

"Could be worse," the archer knew many handler and had enough experience to make up his mind about a new handler before he actually worked with him or her.

Phil snorted.

"Give him a chance," Natasha looked from Clint to Phil, musing what they were communicating about.

"As if I have a choice, Director Fury made his point clear."

Natasha winced at Phil's choice of description for Nick. Calling him by his rank and surname was always a bad sign.

He was truly pissed at Nick and wouldn't forgive him should something happen to Clint during the mission.

He'd probably kill Fury even for a scratch at this point.

Clint's features softened, "It's our job. I can call myself lucky for working with you for such a long time. We both know we aren't exclusive where the job is concerned."

"I know."

The archer loved the slight irritated frown Phil wore whenever he had to accept defeat against Clint, Nat or Nick.

"But I don't have to like it. And why the hell are they staring at us again?"

"Because we're too cute?" Clint offered, getting a glare in return.

"People are speculating about the depth of your relationship," Natasha stated.

"And you know that why?" Phil eyed her.

"Gossip," she shrugged, her salad was suddenly by far more interesting than their conversation.

"I think the kind of our relationship is more than obvious," Clint sipped his coffee, rubbing over his still healing scar with his free hand.

"Ricardo backed down but most rumors are still intact. Agents who witnessed 'the incident' are on your side and their story is making the round. Give them one or two more weeks and they'll come around," she was sure.

"I hope so. I feel like a Hawk in the zoo," Clint sniffed.

"Let them believe what they want," Phil said deadly serious, "We know what we have and that's all that matters."

Clint sent his 'I love you too' through their bond and watched with satisfaction that Phil's gaze softened.

"Creepy," Natasha muttered, feeling a little left out.

"Not anymore," Clint gave his handler a loving smile.

"Old sap," Phil whispered but Clint heard it nonetheless.

"You're older than me."

"Not by much. Don't say it!" Phil warned, he could see on his lover's face that he wanted to say something in return.

Mischief clearly in his eyes; and bond.

"You wound me, sir. Do you truly believe I would make an improper comment?" the archer said dramatically, pressing both hands on his chest; above his heart.

"Yes," Coulson deadpanned.

Clint laughed out loud, attracting the attention of most agents around.

Hearing him laugh was rare.

Hearing him laugh because he truly felt like it was a first.

Widow shook her pretty head, asking herself how she ended up with these two maniacs.

::::::::::::::

Phil waited nervously for Clint to return.

He was gone for three days and he heard that the mission didn't went as smooth as they thought it would.

One dead, three hurt and no one told him anything about these agents.

Phil knew that Clint wasn't the dead agent because he could feel him but he couldn't rule out injuries.

"They're coming," Natasha poked him in the side with her bony elbow.

"Agent Coulson," Vega greeted, he spotted a black eye and split lip.

"Coulson," Clint's voice appeared.

Phil ignored Vega and headed for his asset.

He had three abrasions on his face and he favored his right leg.

"Report," Coulson barked out.

"Minor injuries, abrasions and bruises."

"Cause?"

Clint shifted nervously, "Run over by a car," he whispered.

"What?" Phil wasn't sure he heard correctly.

"Run over by a car, sir."

"It's a wonder he's still alive," Vega joined in, "He should be dead but he got away with scratches."

"You almost died a few weeks ago. Care to explain how you got yourself into such a mess again?"

"It's my fault," Vega confessed, protecting Clint. "My plan had flaws and he got caught in the middle, protecting me."

The man was at least honest and sorry, Phil liked that.

"I want your report as soon as possible, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Vega nodded in agreement, he deserved Coulson's anger for damaging his asset.

"The target tried to flee and thought he could take as many lives as possible while he drove off," Clint liked Vega. He was nothing compared to Phil but he would be a great handler with a little more experience.

Phil narrowed his eyes and said just one word, "Nest."

Clint blushed, "I might have left the height to help a few agents in distress?!"

"Are you questioning me?"

"Uhm," Clint lowered his gaze, not sure what more to say.

Phil sighed deeply, "Come here."

Clint looked up to see Phil holding out a hand, the archer eyed him cautiously.

"Medical," Phil clarified.

"Again?"

"Yes, again."

"Phil," Clint whined.

"Now."

Clint gave up and took Phil's hand, squeezing it tight, "Sorry."

"I told you not to scare me so often," Phil pulled Clint closer, ignoring his fellow agents.

"Yes, sir," the archer smiled.

"Medical," Phil repeated with a smirk. He pulled on Clint's hand, turned to the side and shoved the archer right into Natasha's waiting arms.

She fixated him.

"Agent Romanoff will accompany you and make sure you behave," Phil ordered.

"You tricked me," Clint hissed.

Phil could feel Clint's distress and disappointment, "I know you."

"You're sleeping alone."

"Not at work agent Barton," Phil warned as Vega gave him a surprised look.

It didn't matter that people knew about them but it was important to separate their private life and work. Professionalism was important.

Affection here and there was fine, like getting caught arm in arm on the couch or holding hands in medical but snuggling and bantering like a married couple during briefings, in the hallway or field went over the top.

_Clint knows that, why is he hurt?_

"Let's go," Clint gave in and signalized Nat that he was ready to go.

She let go of him and led him to medical, waiting in front of the examination room.

Phil worried about Clint's silence as he left.

The archer's back was tense and the bond unpleasantly cold and empty.

Clint was feeling but nothing Phil could figure out.

"Sir," Vega put a hand on his colleagues shoulder.

"Write your report," Phil dismissed his thoughts, putting his agent mask back in place.

"Yes, sir," Vega nodded and hurried to his office.

Phil stood rooted to the spot for a few long minutes before he returned to his office, waiting from a call from medical.

"What have you done this time?" the doctor sighed, Marcus treated him on more than one occasion.

"Hit by a car," Clint shrugged, his beautiful eyes strangely empty.

"You have to stay overnight."

"No way. The medics cleared me for duty," he was fine. Only his heart ached.

"Sorry Clint but I have to run more tests. CT, for example."

"Why?" the archer challenged.

"Because I say so," Marcus replied. "Or do I have to call Coulson?"

"No," fear spread through his heart. He didn't want to see Phil at the moment.

_Damn, now he's worried._

"Trouble in paradise?" there was a comforting undertone in the doctor's voice, granting Clint an opening to talk about his issues.

"Nothing worth mentioning, it just stung." Clint lowered his gaze.

"That makes it worth mentioning," Marcus sat down next to Clint on the examination table.

"He just said and did something that hurt."

"And the bond?"

"He was annoyed and a little angry."

"Talk to him about it," the doctor urged.

"I don't want to right now. I want the meds."

"I don't think that such a good idea."

"You have no choice," Clint knew he had the right to get them without Marcus's consent, because the bond was affecting his psyche.

"I know but it doesn't mean I like it."

"Scans and I stay overnight without making a fuss, therefore I get the meds without a long discussion and meeting with my psychiatrist."

"I think talking with Marion is the better option. I learned to handle you. We closed the air ducts above your room," the doctor said serious. They reserved the room for the archer, because they couldn't close every air duct in medical.

"I want them, period." Clint couldn't live with Phil's disappointment, annoyance and anger. It was easier when he didn't know how often he woke these feeling in Phil.

It was easier not to know how often he let him down.

"Okay but I have to report to your handler."

Clint smirked, "No you don't, because you lack my permission."

Marcus glared, "He feels it anyway."

"Doesn't matter," it really didn't.

"Let's start then," he wasn't happy with Clint but his oath bound his hands.

"Agent Romanoff," the doctor approached her. "You can leave, Agent Barton has to stay overnight while we run more tests. Report back to your handler. Have a nice day," he dismissed and called a nurse to get Clint ready.

"How is he?" Phil played nervously with his pen.

"They run an battery of tests and will be released tomorrow morning," she sat down on a chair opposite Phil. The couch was Clint's and the thought of using it felt wrong.

"More tests?"

"I don't know why. You have to wait for the report," she shrugged.

"Should I worry?"

"..., I don't think so," she shook her head. "But I can't tell for sure."

"I think I hurt him."

"Hurt him?"

"He felt hurt and cut himself off of me," Phil regretted the way he said what he said and that he used Clint's devotion to trick him.

"I don't know him as well as you do, but I think he's sensitive."

"You have no idea," Phil huffed. "Did he ever tell you about the first time we met?"

"No."

"He saved my life and got shot in return. He bled out in my arms while we waited for the medics. I didn't know who he was back then. He was surprised about the fact that I cared. He couldn't understand why a stranger wanted him to live. Even after we started to work together,..., he needed a long time to grasp the concept of friendship and family, because no one ever cared. Everything he does, he does for me. Except the incident with you. He went against my orders to save your life."

"We are alike where our past is concerned. I think that's the only reason we get along; the only reason, I'm still alive."

"I'm glad he brought you in, but I wasn't back then. I'm very glad I put my trust in him."

"Does he know that?" she had a suspicion.

"I think so." Phil frowned, racking his brain to find an answer. Digging deeper and deeper into his memories.

"Make sure he does." She got up and left.

Phil sighed deeply, not sure how to approach the subject.

::::::::::::::

Phil snuck into Clint's room.

The archer was asleep and didn't notice his arrival.

Coulson wondered if they had to knock him out with a potent tranquilizer or if he was just dead tired from the mission Fury sent him on.

He dragged a chair close to the bed and slumped down on it with a quiet but heavy sigh.

Clint didn't look peaceful in his sleep and Phil hated that.

The archer normally looked like an angel in his sleep. Vulnerable and innocent.

This time he looked tense and agitated.

Phil knew his lover was truly asleep and not faking it to escape a talk. He had learned to read the signs during their time as a team.

"What is going on in the pretty head of yours?" he asked quietly, not expecting an answer.

The scene in front of him reminded him painfully on their last stay in medical.

Clint had been so unbelievable pale, and his chest barely moved at all.

They forced air into him, filling him up with fresh blood while they did their best to keep him alive.

The bond had been weak and sometimes vanished altogether.

Watching him die was hard; feeling him die made it even worse.

It felt like a huge part of Phil's soul was dying with Clint. Fading into nothing until emptiness was all that remained.

Phil could barely remember the moment he realized that the bond grew stronger, instead of weaker.

He never felt such joy and relief.

Coulson knew a strong bond didn't mean he would make it but it gave Phil something he lost the moment Clint choked on his own blood while he lay in his handler's arms.

Hope.

A few tears slid down Coulson's handsome face and he needed a moment until he noticed them.

He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to stay strong.

He was still embarrassed by his last breakdown.

Phil took Clint's hand. He knew it would just make things worse inside his head but he needed to feel Clint's warmth.

He needed a proof that his archer was still alive and it wasn't a dream.

"Why are you crying?" Clint eyed him sleepily, making Phil wonder how long his Hawk had watched him.

"Memories."

"So bad?"

"Worse."

Clint blinked, what could be so gruesome?

"I almost lost you," was all Phil said.

Realization dawned on the archer, "I'm not dead."

"No, you are not, ... doesn't make it better."

"..."

A nurse interrupted them and Clint pulled his hand away before she got a chance to see their joined hands.

"Oh, Agent Coulson. Nice to see you," she smiled at him. "How are you feeling?" the question was directed at Clint.

"Peachy."

She chuckled, _same old, same old. _"I take your vitals and fuck off again."

Clint gaped at he in surprise.

"I like her," Phil deadpanned, covering the hurt he felt a moment ago.

"Marry her," Clint mumbled.

Phil's brows raised in surprise.

The nurse left as fast as she could, not liking the tension between the agents one bit.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Your glare doesn't work on me."

"I want an answer," Phil demanded.

"You don't need to hide her."

Phil looked confused, "You pulled your hand away."

The archer huffed and looked away, staring at a bleak wall.

"What is that all about?"

Clint couldn't put it into words and he didn't want to use the bond either.

He could feel how Phil's soul reached out for him, searching for an answer.

"You took them again," Phil sounded disappointed.

Clint lowered his head in shame.

"Why?"

"Reducing the chance of making you angry."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"I made you angry, and annoyed and frustrated. All that with one sentence and a small wave of emotions. You don't want to be seen with me, that's okay but I don't want to feel your opinion of me. I can't change the fact I can feel you but I hope I can spare you the insight of my twisted mind and prevent you from directing your 'frustration' at me."

Phil got up and hovered over Clint, looking serious and intimidating.

He cupped Clint's cheeks in both hands, forcing him to look at him.

There was fear hidden behind anger in Clint's eyes.

"We are agents, we can't walk around all lovey-dovey. Believe me I'd love to do that but it's impossible. I'm a handler and a very high ranking Agent. I don't want to lose the respect of my men. It's essential in our line of work. I'm not ashamed of you."

"They already know about us," Clint argued.

"We're professionals. I know you're not familiar with the concept but you have to understand that it's important for me. S.H.I.E.L.D is S.H.I.E.L.D and home is home."

"What if S.H.I.E.L.D and home are the same?"

" S.H.I.E.L.D isn't home. Home is somewhere off base. Work is a place where you find friends and do your job as best you can."

"Okay," Clint gave up. He knew Phil couldn't understand, "I'll show my home to you then."

"I love you Clint. I don't want to mix work and private. I don't want to share what we have."

That was something Clint could work with.

Clint understood what Phil meant but the first part still felt wrong.

"Don't take them anymore, okay?"

"I didn't."

"What?"

"My first dose is scheduled for tomorrow morning."

"But the lack of emotions... ?"

"I feel numb, that's all."

Phil frowned but let the topic go, "Don't take them tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't do that, don't pull away from me," the Agent pleaded. He needed Barton.

Clint eyed his lover warily, "Okay."

"Good," a smile tucked on Coulson's lip before he slipped under the cover of the bed, curling around his archer.

"They will catch us."

Phil shrugged, "It's medical, and after hours."

::::::::::::::::::

"Get dressed." Clint opened the curtains in Phil's bedroom. Two days have passed since their fight and Clint was determined to make his point clear.

"What? Why?" It was Sunday.

"I'll show you my home."

"We are at home," Phil argued sleepily.

"No," that got Phil's attention.

"What do you mean with no?"

"I still get used to your apartment as a, ..., home." Clint needed time to consider a place as home. He was still waiting for it all to fall apart.

"Give me half an hour," Phil was awake now. Annoyed and worried beyond words.

Clint nodded, leaving their bedroom to make coffee and breakfast.

Phil's mind was racing while he took a shower and got dressed. Clint's behavior was odd, even for his standards.

"Eat." Barton didn't look at his lover.

"Sit down," Clint's nervousness freaked him out.

"No," the archer stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. "I want to leave as soon as possible."

Coulson sighed deeply and nodded. He ate and drank as fast as his stomach permitted.

"Ready," he got his jacket and followed his lover out of the apartment.

First they visited an old and very huge building. Nuns and children occupied the larger outer area. The nuns looked stressed or grim, while the children lacked some happiness. They played; and smiled but something was missing. Something felt wrong.

"What are we doing here?"

Clint got a faraway look, "Home number 2."

Phil studied the building and area again. It wasn't a nice place to live.

"Nun Maria." Clint yelled out of the blue, startling his lover.

"Barton." The smile wasn't real, it looked more as if she just had to fulfill her duty.

"How are you doing?" the archer stood a few feet away from her.

"I'm fine. We have a knew sponsor," she informed. "We aren't as poor as we used to be."

"Seems it doesn't make them happier."

"Watch your mouth young man," she warned.

"Or what?" he narrowed his eyes.

"You know the answer, boy," her smile returned. "Don't you want to introduce your friend to me?"

"Phil Coulson," he looked from Phil to the nun. "Maria Williams."

"Nice to meet you," her smile widened. The man looked rich, "What's your business with our little one?"

"Boss and life partner," Phil stated proudly.

She winced at the description 'life-partner', "Are you a lawyer?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D, ma'am."

"He's with S.H.I.E.L.D?" she pointed at Clint.

"That's correct."

"I never thought you'd make it far. I'm surprised you're not in jail or dead."

Phil pulled out his phone dialing a familiar number, "Mrs. Roberts, I'm fine, thank you. I'd like to inform you about some inconsistencies regarding an orphanage." Phil gave her number and addressee before he thanked her again and wished her a nice day.

Maria gave him a suspicious look.

"Competent supervisory authority," was all Coulson had to say. He watched with satisfaction as the nun paled visibly.

"Have a nice day." Phil took Clint's hand and dragged him away before they could do something even more stupid.

"They won't change anything." Clint was sure.

"Wait and see," Phil was sure they would. If not he had to make a few more calls.

Barton didn't reply, he just lead Phil into a dangerous area.

The streets were full with hustlers, junkies, pimps and gangs. It was a very dark area of town.

"Home number three?" Coulson looked around.

"Yes," Clint confirmed.

"Barton," a middle aged man in a suit approached them. "Coming back with a new pimp?"

"No," Clint denied. "Just introducing him to my old life," he pointed at Phil.

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't understand me."

Phil felt like Clint punched him in the gut. It hurt to hear that Clint believed that Phil wasn't able to understand his archer.

"Why is it so important to you?"

Clint smiled at his old pimp, "I have a life now."

"You were my prettiest boy back then, maybe still are." The man nodded to himself, "It's a shame you left but you deserve better."

Clint never belonged to him but they pretended to be hustler and pimp. The kid appeared out of nowhere one day and started selling blow jobs. Never more. It wasn't like him to do charity but the kid touched something inside him and it wasn't hard to pretend the kid was one of his boys. Barton would have been dead, if someone had found out he was a freelancer and not bound to any of them.

"How are you doing?"

"The business is not as lucrative than it used to be. Gang wars are getting in our way and the police is a nuisance," the man sighed.

"What happened to Luis, Nick, Christian and Carlos?" he couldn't see them.

"Nick got HIV, Luis got shot, he died instantly. Christian found a boyfriend, rich guy who beats him up on a regular basis. And Carlos overdosed, he died two years ago. Alexander died from a golden shot too. Mark survived his brush with death, but still isn't clean. As far as I know just you and Bryan made it out of here," he spread his arms.

Knowing that most of his friends died or lived an abusive life hurt awfully. Phil put an arm around his lover and pulled him closer to his body, placing a gentle kiss against his temple.

"We should leave."

Clint nodded, "Was nice to see you again, Oscar."

"Back at you, Clint." The older man returned to his business.

"Can we go now?" Phil felt uncomfortable.

Barton shook his head and showed a very shabby hotel to Phil. The rooms were dirty and comfortless. The visitors more than dubious. Cockroaches and god knew what else were crawling through the halls, and rooms.

Phil felt the urge to take a shower and bath in disinfectant.

After they left the hellhole, like Coulson named it inside his head, they passed through an alley. Homeless people gathered around a fire place. Paper, burning inside a barrel.

"Lucas," Clint approached a man, barely older than Clint.

"Clint," the man smiled. Not hugging the archer out of respect for his clean clothes.

"I hoped you're not living here anymore," the archer said sadly.

"I have nowhere else to go," Luca's shrugged.

"Who else is still here?"

"Ralph, Isabelle and Lucy. Oh, and Mortie."

"What's with William? He saved me and took me under his wing. I wouldn't have survived one night out here without him." Clint explained for Phil.

"They beat him to death," Lucas swallowed hard. "They broke his ribs, his legs, ...his skull, until the pavement was covered with blood and brain parts."

Phil could feel the deep pain within Clint's heart but there was nothing he could do to make him feel better.

"When did that happen?"

"Last year."

"I shouldn't have left him behind." Clint cursed himself.

"It wasn't your fault. You know as well as I do that he would never have left the streets." William had made it his duty to train the new kids.

"Hey bitch, give that to me." A voice yelled through the alley. A young woman in a warm coat looked up at a tall man in his thirties. Gang tattoos graced his neck.

"Leave her be," Clint pulled his gun and aimed at the man.

He raised his hands in surrender, "She's yours? You could have told me, no need to point a gun at me man. Maybe you want to share her? I get her cleaned up and we split the price we get for her. What do you say?"

Clint narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger, hitting the guy in the knee. "Next time I see you I'll aim for your head."

The young woman shivered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he smiled at her. "Who are you?"

"She's Barbara. 22 years old and damn pretty under all the dirt. Her parents threw her out because she fell in love with a guy her parents didn't approve of. The guy let her down and she ended up here." Lucas explained.

"Are they coming often?" anger burned inside the archer like a wild fire.

"They started a few weeks ago. We try to hide the pretty ones but we can't lock them up 24/7."

"I'll take care of it." Clint turned around in surprise at Coulson's words. The older man sent a text message to someone and looked pleased as he got an answer.

"Nick sends a crew," Phil smiled at the thankful feeling that flooded his mind.

"You'll help us?" Lucas asked shocked, "Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. In addition to that you mean a lot to Clint."

"You found a very good man, my friend. Don't let him go," Lucas patted Clint on the shoulder.

"Never," Phil was his forever, at least when he had a say in it.

"I'm the lucky one in our relationship. You don't find someone like him a second time in a life time." Phil loved his archer even more. The life he had to live was gruesome. It had his good and happy sides but life on the streets was hard and dangerous. It was hard to believe that Clint considered, a dark and dirty alley, home. It was cold, reeked of piss and shit, rats ran around and they got their food out of dumpsters infested with germs of all kinds.

"You should leave," Lucas pushed Clint gently in Phil's direction. "We're leaving for a while until the gangs cooled down, and you should do the same."

"It was nice seeing you again. Take care of you, okay?"

"I promise. I give my best." Lucas nodded before he turned around and gathered his friends together.

"Come," Phil led his lover out of the alley and into the next taxi. "Let's go back to our apartment."

"There are two more places."

"I don't need to see them. I think I understand why you consider the Helicarrier and S.H.I.E.L.D in general as home. Nick told me once that S.H.I.E.L.D's base was the first place you've ever been that provided protection. I think living with the agents for years in confined space changes your view at HQ, or especially the Helicarrier. I can't believe you lived and worked under such conditions. You're alone. All alone."

"I have you, and Nat and Nick."

Phil was relieved that Clint thought that way and spoke his mind without the need to coax the truth out of him, or beat sense into him.

"Can we go home, please?" Phil had enough for one day.

"Okay," the archer took Phil's hand. Happy that the older agent accepted his touch.

Back at home, and after a long hot shower with much soap, Phil ordered food for both of them, he put a few blankets on the couch to keep them warm and he chose Clint's favorite movie to make him happy.

They curled up together on the couch, surrounded by warm and comfy blankets, good food and their deep love for each other.


	9. For the long haul

::::::::::::::

Phil entered the firing range looking for his Hawk.

"What are you doing here?" Clint lowered his bow.

"I just realized that you were right."

"Uhm, great." The archer frowned, "In what connection?"

"We never acted truly professionally and I got annoyed because our new found relationship made me aware of the fact that we should continue to behave like agents, but we never did before. That's why I hurt you, I tried to change our relationship into something it shouldn't be."

"Now I'm confused," Clint confessed.

"We're behaving like a married couple since the day we officially met. I wanted to keep our work relationship professional but we already stopped being professional years ago."

Clint thought about it and was sure he figured out what his lover tried to tell him.

"What now?"

"We continue the way we used to." Phil was sure it was the right choice, they made it work for years after all.

"I'm glad," Clint smiled. "What made you aware of the fact?"

"Maria asked why we stopped being so sickening adorable. Bantering like an old couple, being frightening awesome while we stroll through the hallway, and so on." Coulson blushed.

"I thought you changed the rules because we are officially a couple now, I never considered that you weren't aware of the kind of our usual working relationship," it took a load off Clint's mind.

Phil enjoyed the relief and joy within the bond it made him happy too. He still wanted to kick his own ass for being so oblivious and narrow-minded though.

"Agent Coulson," Ricardo yelled.

Phil sighed, "What can I do for you Agent?"

"Fury assigned us to you again. Joseph and I will join you for a week."

"Why?" Phil sent Nick a text while he waited for her answer.

"He sends us on a mission to Prague," she blinked. She thought Coulson knew about the mission.

"Does he?"

"Y-Yes, sir," she confirmed.

"I don't want to," Clint ignored her. He raised his bow and let his arrows fly, "I'm not playing hooker." He had two missions in Prague shortly after he joined the agency and both had something to do with prostitution and human trafficking.

"No one will force you to do that," Phil said serious, "Never again."

Ricardo looked from Coulson to Barton, with huge eyes, "You were a prostitute?"

Phil wanted to hit her. "Watch your mouth Agent," he warned.

"I did what was necessary to get something to eat," Clint said while he shot an arrow.

"It's not her business," Coulson reminded his lover. "You don't have to tell her anything."

"I know," Clint put down his bow. "I just want to make sure she doesn't jump to conclusions again ruining our life."

She looked away, "I am sorry."

"Doesn't make it better," it was rare for Clint to bear grudges.

"I know," she sighed. "I hope you can forgive me one day."

"I read your file," Clint glared at her. "I think you can understand that I don't want to work with you let alone on the same team."

"I understand but there is nothing we can do about it at the moment."

"No," Phil shook his head. "Scratch the idea, and that fast before I hit you."

"Yes, sir."

She didn't dare to ask what the archer was thinking.

Coulson read the incoming text message, "We leave tomorrow, meet me in briefing room 9 in 30 minutes." He gave Clint a peek on the cheek and left.

The open display of affection surprised Barton, a lot. But he wouldn't complain, "Nat, meet me in ten." He pressed a button on his earpiece and nodded to no one in particular as Natasha replied.

"Agent Ricardo," he said icy before he walked over to the targets to collect his arrows.

:::::::::::::

They drove for hours until they reached a small town in the south-east. Clint was happily humming the Duke of Hazard opening theme while Phil's eyes were glued to the road.

Natasha pretended to sleep and Ricardo was ready to gag the archer. Joseph just smiled at her and shook his head to the tune Clint was humming.

The archer felt Phil's good mood so he continued to hum one song after another, ignoring Christina.

"Shut up, please," Christina had enough.

"Leave him be," Natasha opened one eye for a moment. "He has to sit still for days, he needs to get rid of some energy."

"He's getting on my nerves," she whined.

"Suck it up and live with it," Phil ordered. "You don't have to see him the next few days."

"You guys make it sound like it's a good thing," Barton pouted, before he chose a song Phil hated only to annoy his handler.

"Thank you Miss Ricardo, now I have to put up with The Rolling Stones."

"Sorry, sir," she replied sheepishly.

Clint smiled at Phil, sending him some of his love before he started to sing Don't stop believing by Journey, followed by Ney York state of mind and American pie.

(A./N.: not mine but you know that.)

Ricardo and Joseph watched him in awe, his singing voice was breathtaking and simply beautiful. The emotions he put in every song spoke volumes.

Phil continued to stare at the street in front of him but the huge smile on his face gave his feelings away.

"Hey Clint," Natasha threw a crumpled piece of paper at him. " Вы могли бы петь, 'Ты уйдёшь'? пожалуйста"

Clint frowned at her request, "Don't you think, 'you will go' is a little sad? Did I make you unhappy?" He added with big frightened eyes.

"No," she assured, "but I like it when you sing it."

She could see how the tension left her friend and he began to sing, just for her.

(A./N.: Sue google translator. I started to learn a little Russian last year but I don't have the time and forgot most of it. Sigh. I stumbled over the song a few months ago and took a liking to it. I like the language. The song belongs to Комиссар)

After two more songs they reached the little apartment complex.

"Reminds me of my youth," Clint stated dryly after he opened the door.

"That's a suitable comparison," Phil sniffed in disgust.

"I get the disinfectant," Natasha didn't enter the room.

"Do that," Phil agreed and Natasha ran off to get cleanser.

"Who reserved a room in this shithole?" Ricardo suppressed the urge to gag.

"Fury." Clint wondered how he managed to live in such places.

"Clint, are you alright?" Phil worried again.

"Yeah," Barton smirked. "I just can't believe I used to live in places like this," he waved a hand, not sure how to describe such a shabby apartment hotel.

"Me neither, but luckily you don't have to anymore."

"Nothing's better than your apartment, sir." That was the truth, clean, comfy and it smelled of Phil.

"Home?"

"Almost," Clint nodded thoughtfully.

"That's a progress," Coulson cheered inwardly. Cursing the traitorous bond for a moment.

Clint chuckled to himself and unpacked his rifle, cleaning it thoroughly.

"Ricardo and Gordon will stay with me, Widow will keep her eyes and ears open as a waitress in his favorite bar. Hawkeye will take position up here," Phil pointed at a building on the layout. "I have no idea how long you have to stay there but I think three days at least."

"Okay," everything was fine as long as he could hear Coulson's voice.

"Get some sleep, we start in four hours." Phil pushed Clint in the direction of the bed. Natasha managed to get fresh bedclothes.

Clint obeyed and fell asleep almost immediately.

::::::::::::::

"Be careful," Phil tugged on Clint's thick jacket. R&D provided their best multifunctional-clothes and Phil hoped it wasn't a disaster like the rain gear.

"You too."

"I'm not worried about us, you have to stay out there in the cold."

"Better than heat," Clint shrugged. Sometimes he hated his job but who was he to complain?

"Both are uncomfortable," Phil stared at his archer for a moment before he thought, _screw it_.

He kissed Clint in front of everyone and regretted nothing.

"What about professionalism?" The archer licked his lips.

"Smart-ass," Coulson huffed. "We aren't far away."

"I know," Clint gave Phil one last peck on the cheek before he headed for his nest.

"Romanoff, get ready."

She hadn't to be told twice.

"And what are we doing?" Ricardo watched Widow go.

"Wait and watch," Phil settled down on an arm chair in front of their window. Spying on the outer world. He could see Clint's hiding place and the bar Natasha worked in.

The apartment was a shithole but the location was perfect. No questions asked and obtained the best view for their mission.

"Is he really up there?" Gordon took the seat next to Coulson.

"He is," Phil nodded. "Hawkeye, report."

Gordon looked at his colleague, wondering about his order. He leaned a little forward until he could spy the earpiece.

Phil nodded to himself, "Good. Report in twenty minutes."

"I think I don't want to be a sniper anymore," the young man watched the street.

"Why?" Coulson saw that one coming but was too nice to tell him, I knew it.

"I don't think I can hide for days in the freezing cold, or heat, while the only social contact is the voice of my handler in my ear."

"You'll get used to it," Phil listened to Clint. "He wants me to add that the voice in your ear becomes familiar and is as much worth as the real deal."

"He's just saying that because you're his boyfriend," Joseph smiled.

"He's not," Phil shook his head. "It's a matter of trust and familiarity."

"I don't think I could handle that."

"It's okay," Phil assured.

"Do you keep the line open all the time?" Ricardo asked after they fell silent.

"Yes, most of it."

"Why? He hears everything."

"That's the general idea." Phil looked at her for a short moment, "We can hear each other's breath even though we can't talk all the time, that way we know if something off. It's our way to strike a balance between social contact, making sure the other is okay and radio silence. That means we have to keep quiet soon."

She nodded in understanding, keeping her mouth shut.

"Four days," Christina whispered. "Without food or,... , toilette, whatever."

Phil gave her a tired smirk, "He has ration packs and water."

"He must be hungry nonetheless," Joseph looked sad, Phil wondered if the kid wasn't too soft for the job.

"He will live," Phil chuckled. "Of course I buy you a hamburger. I think I even grant you fries. I know I'm generous."

"Seems like he didn't lose his humor," Ricardo stated dryly.

"How are you holding up?" For one moment he was sure he could hear Clint's teeth chatter.

Phil's frown deepened, "Why didn't you say so sooner? ..., You're right, it wouldn't have changed anything. This time I shoot them for real. No, no empty threat. Nick saved their lives last time."

"What happened back then?" Gordon asked.

"His rain equipment wasn't waterproof," Phil deadpanned. They said it was their own fault, _who lies in pouring rain for days? Ha-ha. Assholes._

"You're kidding right?" Gordon gave him an incredulous look.

"No."

"But being waterproof is the general idea of rain clothes."

"Tell that the idiots from R&D."

"Could it be he pissed them off?" Christina snapped her mouth shut at the look Phil directed at her.

"Of course he has but we pay them to do their job right."

"Yes, sir." _Damn, the man is scary._

"What happened? Nothing happened," Phil replied to Clint's question why he was in such a sour mood.

"Christina couldn't keep quiet again." Joseph smiled happily while he informed the archer.

"Traitor," she rolled her eyes.

"Seems you found a new ally," Phil could feel Clint's joy. It was rare for the archer to find friends, "What? I like that,..."

"Clint thinks you should transfer to the psych department."

"I?"

"Yes, he thinks you're good with people and he would trust you with the truth here and there. Believe me that's more than his shrinks ever got."

"Psychology," Joseph spoke to himself. "Sounds cool."

"It's settled then."

"What? No test? Or request?"

"We will talk to the director," Phil smirked, the main reason was Clint wanted the kid to be safe. "That will be enough."

"You guys are awesome." The young man beamed with joy.

Ricardo glared at them, it wasn't fair but it was her own damn fault.

"Hawkeye?" the agitation within the bond scared the Agent. "Talk to me."

"Okay," Phil got up and checked his gun. "Black Widow is possibly in trouble, I go for a drink. You wait here."

The two junior Agents nodded, watching the older man go.

It took less than half an hour to get Natasha away from the targets main bodyguard.

Luckily their cover was still intact.

It was strange that the bodyguard finally arrived but the target was nowhere to be seen.

"Could be a diversion," Natasha changed into more comfortable clothes. "Our analysts say the target is paranoid by nature."

"Clint is freezing his ass off up there, he should appear soon."

"Or else?" Christina asked.

"Or else I abort the mission." The risk to lose Clint due to the cold or mistakes caused by lack of sleep increased with each passing moment.

"Give him one more day, two at the most." Natasha knew how furious Clint would be if they had to leave without a kill. He was unbearable whenever he suffered for nothing at all.

"He agrees, but I'm not happy with it." Phil sighed deeply, "I know you can feel it, I didn't talk to you."

"Stop pouting, what are you a child?" Phil groaned, rubbing his forehead. "What do you mean with yes? You're not so far from thirty."

"Shut up Clint," the archer told him that he would probably never see his thirtieth birthday.

"Coulson?" Natasha put a hand on his shoulder.

"He's an asshole again." The older man shrugged.

She tapped against her own earpiece, "What did you say to him?"

"Never say that again," she hissed. "Don't think that way, we will celebrate your birthday together. Alive." What were two more years? They survived things no one ever considered possible. "What? Phil the target."

The mission was finished in no time and they traveled to the meeting point. Their little fight forgotten. They knew that Clint had every right to fear an untimely death.

After a long briefing they finally got permission to go home.

Phil worried about Clint's health and dragged him into their bathroom. Ordering him to bath, together of course.

The medics provided blankets and fresh clothes for Clint on their way back to the states but Barton was still too cold for Phil's liking.

"Let me help you," Coulson undressed his protégé. "You're cold as ice."

"You're imagining things," Clint brushed his fingertips against Phil's cheek. "My core temperature is close to normal."

"That's why your lips are rimmed in a light blue?" He couldn't take his eyes off of Clint's pale skin with the angry red marks the cold left behind. The frostbites weren't bad but his archer's skin must be sensitive nonetheless.

"Phil," Clint sighed softly, pulling his lover into a loving kiss.

The older agent wrapped his arms around Clint's middle, keeping him close.

The archer granted his lover a few minutes before he had to break the embrace, "It's cold."

Phil undressed himself before he guided his lover into the tube. He was glad that his tube was large enough for two grown man to fit in. Coulson got in first and Clint followed shortly after. Making himself comfortable between his handler's legs. His back rested against Coulson's warm chest and his head on his shoulder.

Phil put his arms around Clint, resting his cheek against the side of Clint's head.

"I'm glad we're home back home." Clint closed his eyes, the relief and happiness that replaced Phil's melancholy was soothing.

"Welcome home, love." The agent smiled lovingly, "and it's not going to disappear."

"I know," he truly did. Coulson was his home and the older man wouldn't leave him on his own accord. Phil was faithful and very much in love with him. It felt great to have a home and more love than he could handle at times. That was something he wanted to get used to, he finally learned that he deserved some happiness. Everybody deserved happiness, even social outcasts like him. Maybe even especially outcasts like him.

They enjoyed the long and hot bath in each other's arms.


	10. A little surprise

A./N.: Sorry it's so short but I'm too tired to write more today. I have a long shift ahead of me and I think I can post around Saturday again. I use the night to write some more at work, if the kids and youths let me.

Thank you for the kind words and thank you for liking the story so far :)

:::::::::::::::

"Four days? Why?" Clint was surprised as Nick informed him that he could take the next four days off.

"You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Phil asked for four days off, for him and his team," Nick stated dryly. He had happily signed their application of leave. They deserved some down time after all they had to endure.

"Why?" It wasn't like Phil to go behind their backs.

"Ask him," Fury ordered. His expression gave nothing away.

_Damn poker face, _Clint nodded in agreement before he left Nick's office.

He stumbled over his handler, two corridors away from Phil's office.

"Are you okay?" There was fear in Phil's pretty blue eyes.

"Did you look for me?"

Phil blushed and Clint could feel that his lover was indeed looking for him.

"You're broadcasting a lot of emotions," he finally answered, looking more than uncomfortable.

"Four days off?"

"Oh," Phil looked away. "He told you that?"

"Yes," _isn't it obvious?_

"It should be a surprise."

"Surprise?" Oh, how he loved his clumsy handler right now.

"I thought we could go on a little journey. My family owns a cabin in the woods. Just you and me, mother nature and your bow." Phil was no longer certain that it was such a great idea to force a journey on the archer.

"You're awesome, sir," a journey, just for the two of them. It felt great to be loved and Phil never forgot to remind him how important he was. "I'm looking forward to it," the archer beamed with happiness.

Phil sighed in relief, his idea was great after all.

"See you at home," Phil gave Clint a peck on the cheek. He had meetings to attend and Clint had to supervise a few junior agents.

"I love you," Clint continued to smile like a maniac while he left to meet with the juniors.

"You?" Julia gasped in surprise. She thought they wouldn't see each other so soon again.

Barton ignored her, "Hey Joseph what are you doing here?"

"I have to attend special self-defense lessons before I can apply for S.H.I.E.L.D's psych school.

"Why?" The guy next to him asked.

"I broke a docs wrist once, and caused many bruises during my time. He wasn't a shrink but there's not much of a difference," Clint shrugged. "It can be pretty dangerous to care for one of us."

"I see," the man nodded.

"What's with the smile, sir?" Jason eyed the Agent suspiciously.

"A new girlfriend, sir?" a pretty, young woman asked nonchalantly.

Clint's expression darkened.

"He probably got laid," Julia chuckled.

"My personal life is not your concern."

"Oh, sore spot," a woman whispered.

"How's Coulson?" Gordon asked, eyes glittering with mischief.

Clint's smile returned, he loved the kid. "He's well, probably torn between shooting or stabbing his colleagues by now. He hates meetings. Our Team has the next four days off, and then I will definitely wear my 'I got laid' smile."

"I hope no one will disturb you," Gordon grinned knowingly.

"Nope, we will be all alone so there is no need to worry about explosions, bots and crazy mother fuckers." No von Doom, Kang, and the likes. He was so looking forward to it.

"So you're taken?" a one of the women reached out to touch the archer.

Clint stepped aside, "Don't touch me without permission."

She frowned, "Yes, sir."

"Good," he looked at each of them. "Ten rounds around the block, then meet me here again."

The juniors left the trainings room.

It took them longer than he thought, they most likely hoped to kill some time so he would cut their training session short. But he had all day, he would make it longer instead.

"Hey Nat, do you want to join? Or just stand there and stare?" Clint didn't need to turn around to know she was there. Hiding in the shadows.

"Spoilsport," she gave him a little smirk.

"Do you want to make their lives a living hell?" he gestured at his underlings.

"Gladly," a sardonic smile appeared on her pretty face. Sending shivers down their spines.

She explained and demonstrated the most important moves before Clint introduced them to all kinds of weapons.

After that they had to survive the special training room, with Doombot replicas and all they had to fight on a regular basis.

"How are they doing?" Phil joined them, brushing his shoulder against Clint's.

"Hey," the archer smiled. "Short meeting?"

"Jasper got into a fight with Stanton, Hill joined in and Fury called it a day," the agent shrugged.

"Sounds like fun," Clint chuckled. "The kids are doing fine, especially Gordon. I'm worried about the analysts though. They're not meant to come near a real field op. They should stay here and do what they do from afar."

"What's the problem with them?"

"Unfocused, clumsy and arrogant."

"Nice," Phil grimaced barely visible.

They had the attention of the juniors by now. It was rare to have someone like Phil Coulson around during training and that made them feel special, but Gordon knew better. Laughing inwardly about his comrades stupidity.

"The pretty brunette was hitting on me earlier," Clint raised a brow, suppressing the urge to smile at Phil's jealousy.

Phil took off his jacket and pointed at the man next to the brunette, "Hand to hand combat," was the short order.

The man nodded and attacked the Agent. Phil took him out with two fluid motions.

Then he pointed at a man next to Gordon and took him out too.

"Is that all you got?"

The woman who hit on Clint raised her hand, "I want to give it a try."

"Okay," Phil cheered inwardly, he knew that would happen. People with a unhealthy huge ego where so easy to read.

She didn't last long and ran 'accidently' against Phil's elbow.

"Ow, damn." She put a hand on her cheek, glaring at Phil.

"Training session, tomorrow morning, 6 a.m. with Agent Sitwell and Hill," Phil ordered, sending his friends a text message. He knew both of them had some free time that morning and they loved to torture juniors and form them to their liking.

"Let's call it a day," Clint shook his head in amusement.

"Ready to go home?" Phil asked, surprising his lover again.

"Always."

Phil put an arm around Clint's waist, "a little possessive today?"

"Maybe," Phil smirked. "After hours," he pointed at the clock at the far end of the room.

"I like your after hour rule."

"I know," Phil looked at Natasha. "Hey Tasha, what are your plans for the next four days?"

"A five star hotel, with pool, drinks, sun and a white beach." Natasha pecked Clint and Phil on the cheek, "See you Clint, Phil." She strolled away with a satisfied smile.

"Hey, Joseph. Be careful, okay?" Clint left Phil's one armed embrace for a moment to pat the soon to be shrink on the shoulder.

"Always, sir."

"Good, I don't want to come back and hear that you got yourself killed."

"I should be out of harm's way for a long time. Enjoy your journey," he winked.

"See you next week, we have a few more training session together."

"Was that an info or a threat?" The young man huffed.

"Both." Clint returned to Phil.

"Did I get it right that you are in a sexual relationship with Agent Coulson? Your boss and Fury's best man?" Julia asked in disgust.

"Romantic relationship. He's mine to love," he could feel the warmth inside Phil's heart.

"He's your boss," she thought there was a DADT rule and a rule against fraternization.

"S.H.I.E.L.D gives a damn about ranks and gender," Phil deadpanned, using his best Agent mask to keep them quiet.

"See you all," Clint waved and led his lover out of the room.

"He slept his way up to the top." Julia was sure.

"No, he didn't," Joseph defended his new friends.

"Barton is an idiot, don't tell me he came so far on his own."

"But he did. I worked on him a few times. He is exactly as awesome as people say."

"Sure, and getting stabbed in the neck is more than a myth," she rolled her eyes.

"It isn't a myth," he shuddered. "I was there when Deuce thrust his knife into his neck. He got stabbed defending a fellow agent."

"Liar, you just want to stay in his favor."

"Hill says he almost died, she talked about it during a meeting a few months ago," one of the men joined Joseph's side. Hill had talked about the archer with such pride that he couldn't be loser.

"I'm still not convinced," she shook her head.

"In case you forgot we are analysts my dear Julia, we're sitting right at the source of information," Jason reminded her. He wasn't sure which side to pick so he decided to do it his way. Gather information, analyze them and form an opinion about the famous Hawkeye.

"That's the most intelligent idea I heard in a long time," Gordon liked intelligent people and in addition to that Jason was rather cute.

"Thank you," Jason gave him a blinding smile, making his heart jump.

"You're welcome," he kept his cool.

"Do you want to join me?" the analyst offered.

"Sure," Joseph said enthusiastically, getting a glare from Julia.

She shook her head in defeat, two more pretty boys out of reach.

Life wasn't fair.

She gave them a few more minutes before she joined them to help with the research.

Phil and Clint stopped at their favorite restaurant on their way home.

Clint treated Phil to dinner as a thank you for his lovely plans.

The restaurant was small but very comfy. The waitress was nice and respected their relationship. She granted them gentle smiles and the best service you could ask for.

Their second favorite restaurant was less tolerant and the waiter was a homophobe. He gave his best to hide it but no one could hide every aspect of the personality.

"Same as always?" she asked friendly.

"Yes, please." They both replied in unison.

"What are you thinking about?" Clint smiled, the feeling inside his chest felt funny.

"About us. Sometimes it's hard to believe that you're mine, to love," the smile Phil sent him in return took his breath away.

"Why?"

"You're gorgeous, young, pretty, athletic, your eyes are beautiful, just like your voice. Your personality is kind and caring. There is a very gentle man behind the asset mask."

Clint blushed furiously, almost suffocation Phil with a flood of love and embarrassment.

"That goes to you too," he choked out.

"I want you to know that you make me happy, very happy," Phil took his archer's hand.

"You make me happy too. I feel good with you by my side. You're giving me something I never dared to dream of. A great life and a promising future."

"Promising future?"

"Friends, family and maybe,... uhm, kids one day," Clint stuttered sheepishly.

"I'd love to build a family with you," Phil assured. he could feel Clint's worries and self-doubt.

"Can we have a dog, too?"

"Yes," Phil rubbed his thumb over Clint's knuckles. "One day we will get a dog," once their work load lessened. Hopefully not too far in the future.

The waitress returned with their food.

They ate in silence for a long time, there was no need for words at the moment.

All they had to say was easily shared through the bond.

Their love, their devotion and the satisfaction their life together caused.

Phil couldn't remember that he ever had a relationship that could compete with what he had now. Clint was different, all they had was different. Even before they developed the bond.

Coulson came to the conclusion that Clint was the first person he truly loved with all his heart and there would never be anyone else he could love that way.

Clint was his.

After all that happened to them Phil began to wonder if the myth of soul mates could be true.

Phil watched his lover chat with the waitress, _I think soul mates is the perfect description for what's binding us,_ he smiled lovingly.

His life was, _how would Clint put it?_ _Awesome._


	11. Day 1

"You said cabin," Clint said in awe.

"Correct," Phil gave his lover a funny look.

"It's a house," Clint clarified.

"A cabin is a house, yes." Phil deadpanned, "What did you expect, a cave or tree-house?"

"I expected a cabin. Not a two story building with more space than your apartment."

"It's a house in the woods then," Phil rolled his eyes.

His parents had been rather rich before their untimely death parted them.

His aunt owned it now but she was too old and sick to have use for it.

"It's beautiful," Clint looked at Phil, not liking his sad mood. _I made him sad again._

Phil sighed, "We used to come here during the holidays when I was a kid. I just realized how much I still miss my parents," he took Clint's hand and led him inside.

The archer remembered that Phil had told him about his parents one evening, almost two years ago.

"It's bigger then our house, when I was a kid, and way prettier." Baron looked around.

"My parents had more money," Phil shrugged.

"And they were nice people," there was sadness in his heart and Clint wasn't sure it was his alone.

"You said your mom was a nice lady."

"She loved us but at the same time she denied us protection," Clint traced the rim of a picture frame with his fingertips.

Phil was an adorable child and he looked happy between his parents.

"My dad broke my arm. She told the doc I fell from a tree. He broke my ribs, she told them I got into a fight with my brother and got accidently hurt. She played the game again and again, different hospitals, different doctors and nurses. I had to keep my mouth shut. I love them nonetheless, even my daddy."

Phil tried desperately to suppress his anger but he could see in his lover's face that he failed big time.

"It's okay to be angry," Clint assured. "I used to be angry for a very long time. You taught me that relationships don't have to be connected to violence. You taught me that it's okay for me to love and that I should not hide behind my anger and negative view on life."

"I wish we had met sooner."

"Maybe it would have changed all we have now. Our job is what brought us together. My insubordination led me straight to you. We might had not liked each other, or we might had parted shortly after,..." Clint mused.

"I think life led us right where we belong," Phil had to agree with Clint's way of thinking.

"There is one more thing you made me realize," Clint smiled at his handler.

"Did I?"

"You taught me that I deserve happiness. I still think you're too good for me but I'll accept your love gladly and treasure it as best I can."

"I know you will," Phil kissed his archer until they had to part for air.

"Promise to never leave me," he knew Phil couldn't make such a promise where their job was concerned but he needed to hear it connected to their private life. He wanted to grow old together with Phil by his side. Maybe it wouldn't be just a dream.

"I will never leave you on my own free will," the agent vowed, knowing exactly what his lover meant.

"Thank you," Clint initiated a second breathtaking kiss.

"You have to promise the same," Phil panted, he was very insecure where his Hawk was concerned.

"I promise." Clint made his vow.

"Let's unpack before we melt and end up as slimy mass of sugar."

Clint laughed and followed Phil upstairs.

Later in the evening after a delicious dinner and a long bath they lay in bed together, enjoying the peace.

Clint enjoyed the warm feeling Phil's hand on his belly sent down his spine, "We know each other for a long time, we are together for months." Clint rolled over, Lying on top of Phil, "But we haven't had sex yet." He kissed Phil with all the love he possessed.

Phil had already wondered if Clint was attracted to him, sexually.

"Self-doubt. That's my métier," Clint caressed Phil's cheek. It pained him to know that his lover wasn't sure if he was pretty enough for the archer's taste.

"I have a lot of scars," Barton swallowed hard. "They aren't pretty, that's one of the reasons I never tried to go further than making out on the few occasion we actually had time to do anything."

"I was a little worried by now that I'm not attractive. I mean I'm older than you by nine years," Phil confessed.

"You are very pretty Mr. Coulson." Clint let his mouth ghost over Phil's jaw, "Your eyes, your body, your soul." He let his mouth wander over Phil's sensitive neck, sliding further down.

Phil's muscles flexed at the sensation. Clint's breath was hot against his skin and was very arousing.

The archer reached his destination and took his lover into his mouth until his member throbbed. Clint kissed his way up his handler's body afterwards, tracing every scar on his way.

He knew the story behind most of them but he never paid too much attention to Phil's scars. He was probably too busy admiring his handler's body whenever he got the chance to see him without a shirt.

Phil grabbed Clint by his shoulders and turned them around, pinning Clint to the mattress.

He stared into Clint's beautiful orbs before he kissed him. Rubbing his heated body against Clint's. The archer moaned at the sensation.

Coulson took his time to inspect his lover's body. Phil placed a kiss on the scar the bullet had left all those years ago. He read in Barton's file that the wound had almost been fatal. It nicked an artery but luckily missed important organs. The young stranger was ready to die for him, an old agent he never met before.

Clint shivered as Phil pressed his lips against his sensitive skin, "It's okay." Clint soothed, "It's okay."

Phil hovered over Clint, giving him a warm look. "It's the price you had to pay for our happiness."

"It was worth it," Clint said serious. "Now fuck me, sir, before I have to take care of my little problem by myself."

"I wouldn't call it 'little' problem," Phil gave him a very dirty smirk.

"Naughty," the archer shivered in anticipation.

Phil got Clint ready as fast as he could, without spoiling the mood.

"Tell me when you're ready," Phil held still. It took all his self-control not to thrust deep into his lover.

After a long moment, Clint took a deep breath and nodded. "Ready."

Phil smiled, pushing his hips pelvis forwards. A low moan escaped his usually controlled mouth.

Clint wrapped his legs around Coulson's middle to pull him closer, "Damn." His handler was indeed very skilled.

Clint lifted his head to catch Phil's lips with his own, wrapping his arms around Phil's neck.

Their first time didn't last as long as they hoped for but it was very intense nonetheless.

The bond seemed to intensify the elation after orgasm even more. Clint could swear he was close to explode, seeing stars and colorful spots everywhere. It felt like he and Phil were one and the same.

"That was awesome," Phil tried to catch his breath, huddling up against his archer.

"Best sex I ever had," that was clearly a compliment.

"Back at you," Phil let his fingertips trace the line of Clint's collarbone, avoiding the scar on his neck.

"We should get cleaned up," Clint had no intention to get up anytime soon, neither had Phil.

"We should."

"Or we could wait until we recover, have a second round and then we could take a shower," Clint mused.

"Perfect plan," Phil nodded in agreement. The atmosphere between them was warm and very, very relaxing. The bond was humming soothingly inside his body and mind, reminding him how much he loved having his archer around. Baron changed his life, drastically, but it didn't matter. Sometimes things had to change to bring you a step closer to your goal. Phil had always dreamt about a person who would stick with him, no matter what.

He was sure Clint was the person he looked for all his life.

"Should I worry about the smile?" Clint could feel the relief and glee Phil was feeling, there was something else but he couldn't identify it. But he knew it was nothing to worry about, it didn't feel negative at all.

"I have all I ever wanted."

"Extra hours, a sneaky boss, stupid colleagues and an infamous lover?"

Phil chuckled, punching Clint in the shoulder. "A job I love, a boss I can call a friend, colleagues I consider as friends and the best life partner a man can wish for."

Clint blushed, "The first place in the matter of best life partner belongs clearly to you but thank you for the compliment. I think you're even naughtier than me, sir."

"Ahh, shut up." This time it was Phil who blushed.

The archer laughed happily, "I love you very much Phil." He smiled at his partner with the most carefree smile Phil had ever seen on Clint's face.

"I adore you, I hope you know that." Phil mirrored his archer's smile, it was infectious.

"I know," Clint pecked him on the lip, beaming with pride. "Believe me I know."


	12. Day 2

"What are we doing today?" Clint refilled Phil's coffee cup, his lover was grouchy without his second cup shortly after his first one in the morning.

"Impatient," Phil hid his smirk behind his cup. "Dinner at Marie's Diner and there's a club 10 miles east. You told me months ago that you wanted to dance with me."

"It was Nick's birthday party and you said you rather die than dance."

"I rather die than dance in front of Maria and Nick but I think I will survive a night out with you in a club, faaaar away from our freaky friends."

"I thought you can't dance," Clint said amused.

"I can dance, don't worry." His parents paid for expensive dance lessons when he was a kid.

"I can't," the archer confessed. "I just move on instinct."

"I saw you dance with Tasha," he almost exploded with jealousy back then. Clint had stopped to dance so sudden that Phil looked around for enemies. The pained look the archer gave him made him lower his head in shame. He knew better than being jealous of Natasha, "You are a good dancer, no matter what your self-esteems tells you."

Clint blushed slightly at the compliment, "Can we go for a walk after breakfast? I'd love to see more of the wood."

"Sure," Phil knew how much Clint liked quiet places. Woods weren't totally quiet but it wasn't stressful or loud. It was just mother nature talking out there. Birds, rabbits, the wind whistling through the leafs...

"I love the house," Clint closed his eyes. It was funny how long he needed to feel at home in Phil's apartment and this time he needed one day to feel at ease. It was probably never about the place, it was most likely about his place in Phil's heart.

Phil frowned, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he opened his eyes. "It feels like home."

Coulson tilted his head, "That's good." He couldn't hide the surprise in his heart.

"I'm important."

"Of course you are."

"Home is where you are," the archer was dead serious.

Phil didn't know what to say.

"No matter where life leads me it will always be home while you're around."

"Where is all that coming from?" It worried Phil deeply, something wasn't right.

Clint rubbed over the scar on his neck, "I had a dream last night, and I realized that I should say some things out loud, or more often."

"Is Deuce haunting you again?" Phil got up and stopped behind Clint, wrapping his arms around his archer's shoulders.

Clint nodded.

"He's gone," Phil kissed the top of Clint's head. "He's gone."

"Until the next one comes around." It would never end.

"Stop thinking like that," he feared the same.

"The dream triggered these thoughts. They will be gone in a moment," Clint promised.

"I know but they make me sad all the same."

Clint took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "You're my hero," Clint joked.

"Of course I am. I'm Agent Coulson," Phil stated proudly.

Clint laughed at that, "You're famous."

"Yup," Phil agreed. He was well known within S.H.I.E.L.D, "but I'm still not sure that's a good thing."

"Believe me, it is a very good thing." Phil was known as bad-ass genius but he was also known for his fairness and his considerable amount of patience.

He was the one who gave lost causes a new chance, again and again.

"I love it whenever you kiss the ground I walk on," he nibbled on Clint's ear.

"Napoleonic complex," Clint clucked his tongue, trying hard not to shiver as Phil's lips made contact with his sensitive skin.

Phil let his tongue trace over the old scar behind Clint's ear. Sometimes he tended to forget that his lover couldn't hear a damn thing without his implants. Okay he could hear, a little.

"Nick said they're working on new hearing aids," Clint took a shaky breath while Phil continued to arouse him.

"Good," Phil was too busy focusing on his lover's smell and taste to listen. "Bed."

"Is that an order," even if not he would be damned to stop now.

"See it as you like," Phil whispered against Clint's skin.

"Bed," the archer got up like a flash and dragged his handler into their bedroom.

After they took their time to explore each other's bodies and cause as much pleasure as possible they finally found the time to go for their walk.

Phil enjoyed Clint's good mood. He had never felt him be so relaxed and he had never seen him that way before the bond interfered with their life.

The animals seemed to like the archer and sought his companionship, rabbits ran around their feet. A fox eyed them from afar with a nosy tilt of his head while birds chirped happily from high up in the trees.

"You seem used to it," the wood, the animals, very few human beings.

"I grew up in a little town in Ohio," Clint looked up at the trees, spying the birds up there. "We spent a lot of time climbing up trees and play hide and seek. It was safer out here," he spread his arms, "Than it was at home, or somewhere else."

"I rarely climbed up these trees," Phil touched the trunk of huge tree. "It was improper to run around and get dirty. Don't say it," Phil grimaced.

Clint pressed his lips together to prevent himself from saying it out loud.

Phil raised a brow, waiting for Clint to spill it but his lover didn't.

"My parents preferred board games and long walks, explaining every single detail about trees and flowers and mushrooms and animals," Phil summarized.

"Nothing against your parents sir but that sounds boring, I appreciate education but there's a limit."

"Sometimes what they told me came in handy while I was with the military, or helping you to survive the jungle," he smirked at the last part.

"Thank you sir for feeding me leafs," the archer rolled his eyes.

"You're welcome."

"I dropped out of High school, maybe I would have made it to college if my parents had shown some interest in my education." Clint regretted his choice at times but he knew just as well that he never had the slightest chance to pass.

"You're a very intelligent man, Clint," Phil knew firsthand how smart the young man was. "Diplomas don't make geniuses. You are highly intelligent, or you are not."

"I'm not the brightest bulb in the box, sir."

Phil huffed, "Sorry to deflate your lovely opinion of yourself but I must say that you are indeed a great tactician and observer. Your way of thinking is quick and efficient. Sorry love but you are a genius, just without diploma."

"I'm not used to hear that I'm more than a dumb piece of shit or birdbrain, or whatever they call me."

"Important is that you start to believe in yourself. I give you my tie, one of my files and von Doom, what would you do when I leave here in the middle of nowhere?"

"First: You wouldn't. Second: Build a bow and shoot him. Third: Build a compass with help of your favorite silk tie and the paperclips you always use to keep your files in order. Fourth: I will go back to the 'cabin' and use our stash of milk to make plastic and glue, using it for all kind of things just to annoy the hell out of you. "

"Well if that's your definition of dumb I don't want to know how you define smart."

"Phil Coulson."

"What?"

"That's how I define smart. Phil Coulson." Clint beamed at his handler but it was clear that he meant what he said.

"Hm," Phil grunted in surprise. "I rather thought of Stark, or Banner or Fury."

"Dr. Banner turned himself accidently into green monster, he can't be that smart. Stark is a genius nutcase where electronic is concerned but he hasn't the slightest idea how humans work. Fury is just a grouchy bastard, he isn't as clever as he wants us to think he is. He burned down a little village because he forgot the oil reserves, he almost got shot by his ex-wife, and he lies like a trooper. You on the other hand know how to listen, analyze and act the adequate way. You never make the same mistake twice. You never give up."

"You do remember that I try to encourage you and not the other way around, right?" Phil chuckled, slightly touched by his archer's opinion of him.

"I think we both can use some encouragement once in a while," Clint nodded satisfied while he took Phil's hand. "Dinner time."

"Chowhound," Phil mumbled.

Clint tucked on Phil's hand, Phil stumble into Clint's arms, "or we can have some fun and I will cook afterwards."

"I think poor Marie has to go without two extra customers today," Phil purred.

Clint shuddered, "Good choice." They headed back to the house, joking and laughing like love sick teenagers.

"Are you ready?" Phil called out.

"Yes, sir." Clint left the bathroom, dressed in tight jeans and an even tighter black shirt.

The shirt pronounced his strong arms and Phil couldn't take his eyes off of them.

"Like what you see?" The archer gave him a naughty lopsided smile.

"Very much." Sometimes it felt like a dream that someone like Clint adored a man like Phil.

Phil knew he was nothing special, he had pretty eyes and a breathtaking smile but that was all he had. He was three centimeter smaller than Clint and by far not as broad and well build.

What surprised him most was that Clint loved him the way he was. Smaller, more slender, less hair and nine years older. It made Phil proud and let his self-esteem grow.

"I like your outfit too," Clint liked the way the tight dress shirt hugged his lover's chest and upper arms, his jeans fitted perfectly. "I love your suits but nothing is better than your civvies."

"I love your civvies and uniform, but that's because I designed it," Phil winked at Clint, a wicked smile graced his lips.

"I knew the tight pants are suspicious," Barton gave Phil a strong pat on the ass. "Let's go"

The way to the club didn't take long and Clint eyed the pub.

"I know it looks shabby but it's a nice pub." The owner is open minded and so are his guest.

"Coulson," an old man cheered. "Where have you been, kid?"

"Work kept me busy," Phil smiled at the man.

"Beer?"

"Two," Phil pointed at Clint.

"Boyfriend?" three men and two women turned around, waiting for an answer.

"Yes," Phil confirmed.

He could hear the women sigh and the men just grinned. They had nothing to fear, their ladies would remain by their sides.

"I'm Clint," the archer tried to sound self-confident. The gentle smile of the old bartender told him that he had failed.

"It's the first time since you're an adult that I see you with a man by your side. I thought you gave up on love."

"I just waited for the right one."

"And the kid is the right one?"

"He is," Phil put an arm around Clint's shoulder and pulled him against his side. "He's a good guy and he's the best thing that ever happened to me."

Clint looked away as the bartender gave him a stern look.

"He's shy," the old man laughed. "I like him."

Barton smiled shyly, slowly exhaling the breath he was holding. "Glad to hear that, got me worried for a moment."

"I know Phil since he was a toddler. I have to cover his daddy's part once in a while."

"Thank you George but you really don't have to worry," Clint was harmless.

"I will always worry, kid." He polished a glass.

"Where is Josie?" Phil hoped she was still alive, George and Josie were such an awesome couple.

"Jill got her second boy last week, Josie looks after them. She will return in two days."

"Congratulation," Phil beamed. It was their fifth grandchild by now.

"What about your family boy? Where are you from?"

"Ohio, sir. I,..., Phil is all I have." Clint shrugged.

George looked at Phil with wide eyes, searching for a sign that the boy was exaggerating. He obviously wasn't, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, it's not your doing." Clint liked the man, he felt kind of safe around the tall bartender.

"Where did you meet?"

"At work," Clint pecked Phil on the cheek. "He's my boss."

"Uh-hu," George grinned while he filled a glass with Tequila for a young woman.

"I didn't use my position to get him," Phil shook his head.

"I didn't use him to climb up the ladder," Clint said at the same time as Phil.

"That thought didn't cross my mind I was rather thinking along the line of steamy office sex," he winked, making both men blush furiously.

"George," a tall man yelled. "Come on man they aren't your only customers."

"But I don't see them every night," George shook his head in amusement. "See you later."

"Sure," Phil returned his attention to Clint. "I thought he'd never leave."

"He's a nice guy."

"That he is," Phil sipped on his beer. "Let's wait for the next song, if I'm right it's a nice romantic song. I think he didn't change his playlist the last twenty years."

Clint laughed, "We will see."

Phil was right and the song was romantic but not too slow. They used the chance that the dance floor was well visited on Friday nights to keep body contact while they danced.

They swayed to the music, lost in their own world while the men and women around them tried to find a suitable partner. Most couples sat at the bar, talking and snuggling while the singles performed their courtship display.

The bond was humming strongly within their veins, providing love and warmth.

Clint's chin rested on Phil's shoulder, his eyes were closed while he followed Phil's every move.

Phil enjoyed the jealous glares he got from a few women. Clint was his and his alone. They didn't stand a chance against him, no matter how pretty they were.

Phil felt safe in Clint's strong arms and very loved, the bond was steady and in tune.

They wished they could remain forever in each other's arms, without super-villains, arms dealer, human trafficker or the likes.

Life without S.H.I.E.L.D and danger was great, even if it was just for four days.

They were thankful for all opportunities to be happy.

"One last beer before we head back?" Phil whispered into Clint's ear.

The archer nodded and followed Phil to the bar, "Two beer."

"Hey gorgeous," a woman with by far too much make up smiled at Clint. She was drunk.

"Hey ma'am." Clint moved closer to Phil, getting out of her reach.

"What are two pretty boys like you doing here?"

"Visiting old friends," Phil replied, taking Clint in a possessive one armed hug.

"Oh, old George," she nodded to herself. "Do I know you?"

"Coulson." Phil introduced himself.

"Ohhh, Phil." She was by far more sober than a minute ago.

"I'm Gina, Gina O'Riley."

"Little Gina," she lived in the house next door, okay next door was in their case, one and a half miles away.

"Seems like you finally found a real man." She eyed Clint, "He's cuter than Chris."

"Chris," Clint tilted his head.

"The guy over there," she pointed at a tall man in the corner of the club. "He's an asshole, broke Phil's heart. Denied they ever had something going on. Asshole was just scared to be judged."

Phil could feel an icy emotion within his chest, Clint was probably weighing his chance to get away with murder. Clint was Clint he got away with anything and he knew that damn well.

The tall man noticed that Gina pointed at him and went over to her, "Hey Gina, talking about me?"

"Naw, just told pretty boy how you broke his boyfriends heart all those years ago."

Chris looked at the two men in front of him, his eyes widened as he recognized Coulson, "Phil, how nice to see you again."

"Hi," was all Phil had to say.

"How are you? You look good."

"I'm fine and you aren't as pretty as I remember," Phil deadpanned.

Chris clenched his teeth, "Who is that." The man was very pretty, especially his eyes and well formed arms.

"Clint,Chris. Chris, Clint," Phil pointed at Clint and then at Chris, and back to Clint.

"What does a guy like you see in our dear Phil?"

"He's a good man and pretty," Clint shrugged.

"I see."

"We should go," Phil didn't want to spend more time with Chris as absolutely necessary.

Clint got up and Chris could see how broad Phil's boy truly was. The man was gorgeous.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"Not interested," Clint sniffed.

"Put your hands up," three men stormed into the club.

Clint groaned in frustration, "That's not supposed to happen."

"Put your money and jewelries into the bag," one of them yelled.

Clint looked at Phil, waiting for orders.

"Take them out," Phil turned around, disarming one of them before he knocked him out in no time. Clint did the same, he disarmed the smallest guy and hit him with his elbow before he shot at the last guy, grazing his wrist without doing much harm but it was enough that he dropped his weapon and surrendered.

They stopped the raid under a minute, personal record time.

"Hey boss, what do we do with them?" Clint hovered over his two prisoners.

"George called the Sheriff, let him take care of it."

"Yes, sir."

"Jimmy, how often do I have to tell you to stop that nonsense," George crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Your daddy would turn around in his grave if he knew what you're doing. Do you truly think we don't know who you are? It's a very small town you idiot."

"Yes, sir." One of the kids mumbled.

Phil shook his head, some things never changed. "Let's go I'm tired."

"Tired? Not for long, sir." The grin on Clint's lips was very promising.

"See ya, George," Phil waved at the old man. Glancing at Chris for a brief moment.

The shock on the man's face was more than satisfying.

"Bye sir," Clint directed at George. "I hope we didn't cause too much damage."

"Don't worry about it," the old man was impressed by Phil's and Clint's skills. He was a soldier himself when he was young and he knew they were more than just simple soldiers.

"I hope we can meet again before we leave," Clint was sure Phil wanted to see that Josie person before they left.

"Sunday," George was more than happy to see them again. "Josie will be there too."

"Great," Phil wrapped an arm around Clint's waist. "See you on Sunday then."

They bid their goodbyes and enjoyed the drive to their house.

It was fun to be the main topic of such a small town.

Clint heard them whisper about heroes, special soldiers and gay super spies while they left the club.

They had the time of their life. Love, new/old friends, a little fight and more love.

Clint fell asleep in Phil's arms with a huge smile on his face and nightmares forgotten.


	13. Day 3

Sorry, it took me so long. I hope the chapter is good enough to make up for it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Hey," Clint placed a soft kiss on Phil's lips. "Good morning."

"You're in a damn good mood so early in the morning," the agent mumbled sleepily.

"It's 10 a.m."

"Far too early." Phil turned around and trapped Clint beneath his body. He used Clint as a pillow, nor ready to get up any time soon.

"I tell anyone that our dear Agent Coulson loves to cuddle," it was an empty threat, they both knew it. Their relationship was sacred.

"Your own fault that you're so damn comfy," Phil tightened his hold around the archer.

"Comfy?"

"Comfy," Phil confirmed.

Clint closed his eyes, a loving smile graced his lips. It felt good to have the love of his life in his arms. Phil gave him everything he needed.

He got rid of threats, scared the bullied away and handled most things Clint was scared of.

Coulson had become his guardian and guide.

He taught him how to live, how to handle life and how to keep a steady relationship.

Clint was sure he got a hang on it.

The concept of love and family wasn't so alien anymore.

Sometimes he wished his parents could see him now.

The man he had become.

Would they be proud?

Disappointed?

Jealous?

Or at least happy?

Phil's parents would be proud for sure.

His handler as such a great man.

There was no other option than being proud of what he'd become.

"You're thinking too much," Clint's feelings turned from comfortable to disturbing within a short amount of time.

"I was wondering if mom and dad would be proud of me."

"Of course," Phil kissed Clint's chest. "You're smart, good looking, caring with a heart of gold, you have a well paid job, a life partner who adores you, friends who would do anything for you, many noble deeds."

"I'm not sure."

"About your good sides?"

"No," the archer shook his head. "I just don't think they would appreciate the way I live my life."

"They have nothing to say in the matter," Phil said serious. "They did nothing for you."

"They're my parents."

"That they are, but nothing more." Phil caressed Clint's belly, "There are parents and _parents_."

Phil hated Mr. and Mrs. Barton, "The ones who just 'made' you and the ones who love you and guide you through life as best they can."

"They did their best in consideration of the circumstances of how we lived."

"Do you truly believe that?"

"Yes," that was indeed the truth.

"Hurting you was wrong, harassing you was wrong. Looking away was wrong, hiding the truth was wrong. Tell me one thing they did right, except from creating you."

"They loved me."

Phil clenched his jaw, the problem was that Clint was probably right in a sick and twisted way.

"That isn't enough."

"I can't think of something else."

"What does that tell you?"

Clint couldn't accept what his heart was telling him, "I deserved it."

"Come again?" Phil was wide awake now.

"I got hit whenever I did something wrong, it was his kind of punishment," it was strange for Clint that his heart could feel love and hate for his father at the same time. Clint got used to his twisted feelings towards his father but it never lost its strangeness.

"No one deserves to get hit, especially not children."

"But that's what I'm used to know. You're different though." Phil would never hit or torment him. He would yell and say something mean but Clint learned that this was what people called normal. What he had to endure before he met, Nick and Phil wasn't.

Clint wasn't free of guilt either, he tended to say something rash too or he yelled at people when he was angry. That was okay. You could fix it with an I'm sorry or good deed.

The things he did to survive on the streets or at home couldn't be fixed that easily.

"Your past should remain your past, Clint. Don't torment yourself with things you can't change. We all did things we aren't proud of and there will be more in the future." Phil could read his archer well enough by now to know what he thought.

"I can't let go," Clint had tried for years but his past returned again and again.

"In case it makes you feel better my parents would hate me for what I have become. Dad was a doctor, mom a teacher. They wanted more for me than being a soldier and I'm damn sure they would hate to know I work for an agency like S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm not the boy they raised anymore. Maybe I never was the child they wished for. All I know for sure is that they wouldn't approve." That wasn't a lie to make Clint feel better, it was the hard truth.

"I have some trouble believing that," Clint smiled sadly.

"You don't have to but I never lied to you and I won't start with something so serious."

"So you plan on lying to me in the future?" Clint couldn't bear the topic anymore.

Phil was speechless for a moment, "Hell noooo."

"Good," one of Clint's more happier smiles returned to his face.

"We should get up," Coulson entangled himself from his lover's warm body.

"I thought you're too tired?"

Phil gave him a glare, "I am but I don't think I can go back to sleep after our talk. Breakfast, walk, dinner at Marie's and a trip to the archery school a few miles north."

Clint's eyes gleamed, "Archery?" He leaped out of the bed, "I love you, sir."

Coulson chuckled while he got dressed, "I know."

After a long walk and a delicious dinner at Marie's, they headed for the Archery school.

"Philip," a man around Phil's age greeted.

"Mike," Phil smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine. How are you? You look good."

"I'm fine. Clint that's Mike, he's an old buddy of mine. Mike that's Clint, my favorite archer. I told you about his skills."

"Phil told me a lot about you during his last call," Mike smirked knowingly. "How did an old and grouchy guy like you get a beauty like him?"

"I have no idea but I'll take his love gladly."

Clint needed a moment to realize that Mike was just mocking them, it was obvious by Mike's expression and tone of voice. Their love was a sore spot for Clint, not the love itself but their age difference and looks, and especially his worth.

"Lucky bastard," Mike said amused. "Come, they're waiting."

"They?" Clint whispered to Phil.

"His students," Phil stated proudly. "They could use a lesson or two from the best marksman the world has ever seen."

Clint blushed furiously.

"Listen up," Mike clapped his hands. "That's Clint. He will teach you a few things today."

Clint eyed the students. They were between 17 and 25 years old. Most of them looked like rich upper-class kids, except two young adults. A man and a woman. Their bows were cheap just like the rest of their gear.

They looked a little lost between the upper-class kids.

"He doesn't look like an archer," a man in his early twenties sniffed.

"How does an archer looks like?" Clint fixed his gaze on the man, sending a shiver down the kids spine.

"Graceful and respectable; not build like a tank and found on the streets."

"But that's exactly the place they found me," Clint shrugged. "And for being graceful..., fitness is essential for firing arrow after arrow. An archer with skinny arms isn't an archer."

"Why don't you show them a few tricks?" Mike was slightly embarrassed by his students behavior.

Clint unpacked his bow, enjoying the aahs and oohs he got for his high-tech bow.

Barton smirked at the arrogant young man and fired an arrow at the target without looking at it.

Of course, bullseye.

Even Mike's jaw dropped, "How?..."

"I told you he's the best," Phil beamed with pride at his old friend.

"But that's just,... impossible."

"Not for him."

"I want to learn that too." One of the poor kids said in awe."Pleas teach me how."

Respect, Clint liked that. "Show me how good you are. I'm sure you have remarkable skills of your own."

The young man almost burst with pride while he took his bow with the intention not to disappoint Clint and the faith he put in him.

He was good and had real chance to become one of the best archers in the world.

All of them gave their best to impress Clint but that was harder than they thought it would be.

The two 'poor' kids and one of the upper-class guys had enough talent and heart to become famous. The other six weren't in it, they lacked the right amount of love for the sport.

Their hearts and souls weren't in it.

"Lena, Kevin and Zak," was Clint's reply as they asked who was best.

"Lena and Zak?" One girl, Christine when he remembered correctly, asked with a hint of venom in her voice.

"Archery is by far more than being good at it. You have to love it. It's not enough to learn how. You have to feel it, live it. Archery is a big part of my life. I love it, I need it and it's a part of me."

It made him sad to see that most of them didn't understand what he meant. Some of them showed some sense of understanding but two of six was less than satisfying."

"It's fun and soothing," Lena dared to say.

"Yeah, that it is."

Phil watched his archer with kind eyes, listening carefully to their bond. The short flash of sadness worried him a little but it was soon replaced by happiness after Lena proved that she understood how important it was to love what you do.

Phil loved his guns and martial arts. He put all he had into it, because he loved it.

It started as a way to defend himself, to survive in the army. Then it turned into his lifeline before it finally became a part of him.

Clint's history told the same story- Archery was his last hope, then turned into his lifeline before it became essential for him.

The thought of Clint losing the ability to use his bow scared him to the core. Phil was sure he would lose Clint, should that ever happen. The archer loved him there was no doubt but was their love enough when it was all Clint had left?

Phil knew Clint would never get over it and fade away, slowly but steady until nothing remained that defined Clinton Francis Barton.

Coulson got his straying mind back under control after Clint directed a worried frown at him.

The Agent took a deep breath, giving Clint a gentle smile to sooth his worries.

Clint wasn't sure Phil was truly okay but nothing was totally wrong either so he returned to his task and taught the kids how to improve their skills.

Phil continued watching Clint, his gaze followed Clint's hand as it raised up to his ear to scratch lightly over the scar Phil knew was there.

The day Clint lost his hearing was comparable to the day Clint ended up with a whole in his neck.

**-Flashback-**

"Are these the new sonic arrows R&D came up with?" Phil eyed the arrowheads.

"Yes," Clint studied his new arrows. "I'm not sure I like them."

"You don't have to like them. They have to be useful."

Clint rolled his eyes at Coulson's sour agent mood, "Who pissed into your coffee today?"

"Watch your language," the archer was not at fault but his job grated currently on his nerves.

Nick was waiting for three more reports, Hill dumped a bunch of junior agents on him because she was too lazy to train them herself and Jasper made fun of him every chance he got. His friend was sure that Phil had a crush on the archer.

"Yes, sir." Clint wasn't in the mood to get on Phil's bad side.

"We leave in an hour." R&D made the arrows especially for this mission and Phil had tried to make sure they did an accurate job. The rain gear disaster had been bad enough.

"Okay."

Phil watched his archer for a moment before he turned around and left. It wasn't like Clint to take his moods without retort.

...

"Report Hawkeye."

"I'm in position, sir. Target in sight." Clint hid inside a warehouse, close to one of the highest windows. The undercover agent and his 'bodyguards' were trying to come to terms with the target. He promised to sell them high-tech weapons for the riot the undercover agent was planning in Mexico.

Something went wrong and the target's men raised their weapon, opening fire. Clint fired his arrows and made his way down to the agents in distress.

The enemy was firing with some kind of energy weapon and Clint had to use his new sonic arrows.

"Damn Hawkeye, what happened?" Phil worried. A loud noise screeched through his earpiece and Phil threw it on the ground, rubbing his ear. "Ow, what the hell? Extraction team, go."

Clint pulled the string to fire his arrow as the arrow head malfunctioned and went off in front of his face. The sonic burned painfully in his ears.

Barton placed his hands over his ears to drown out the noise and keep the pain away but it was too late. The pain fogged his mind and made it hard to focus, Clint lost the battle against himself and lost consciousness.

The only positive thing about the sonic arrow was that it indeed destroyed the energy weapons so the agents could take out the enemy.

Phil was waiting in front of the warehouse, pacing with worry.

Two agents emerged with Clint's unconscious body between them, "We need the medics." One of them yelled.

Phil wrapped his arms around Clint, lowering him to the ground. His ears were bleeding but he seemed unharmed otherwise.

"Barton?" Phil patted the younger man's cheek but he got no reaction.

The medics loaded him on a gurney and headed back to HQ as fast as they could.

Phil paced up and down the hallway of medical for two hours before a nurses begged him to stop making her nervous.

The doctors wouldn't tell him exactly what was wrong with Clint, they just said they had to wait and make more test until they could make a final diagnosis.

Phil was finally permitted to keep his archer company.

"Hey Clint," Coulson caressed Clint's cheek. "How are you?"

He would never forget the expression on Clint's face and his wide eyes the moment he talked to him.

"Clint?"

The archer couldn't hear Phil's beautiful voice, his lips were moving but it seemed no sound left his soft lips.

Phil felt like crying as he put the pieces together. His archer was deaf, the sonic arrow must have destroyed his eardrums.

"Hush," Phil tried his best to calm him down with help of his touches and his expression.

It wasn't easy to calm Clint down, he was freaking out and had every right to.

Phil had never seen Clint panic that way. The doctor had to sedate him in the end before he could hurt himself even more.

The archer had to stay for a week just so they could tell him that he would remain deaf.

They provided hearing aids but Clint hated them, they hurt and felt uncomfortable.

Nick ordered R&D to develop hearing aids for Clint, preferably implants and extremely modern.

Clint did his best to look strong while he wandered along the corridors in HQ, praying that no one dared to talk to him. He was relieved as he reached the deserted parking lot, it was scary not to hear damn thing.

Phil had followed his archer from med bay to the parking lot. He approached carefully and slipped his hand into Clint's.

Clint jerked at the sudden touch, he obviously didn't see that coming.

Phil squeezed his friends hand and led him to his car, "I take you home." He pronounced every letter in hope Clint could read his lips.

The archer nodded and followed his handler freely.

Coulson hid his archer inside his apartment, shielding him from the world, until Nick gave him a call that Clint's hearing aids were ready.

As mean as it might sound but Phil kind of enjoyed the time they spent together watching TV, with subtitles for hearing impaired, and 'talking'. Phil learned that Clint was an awesome cook and liked to prepare Phil's dinner. He learned that Clint was in need of love and protection, because he never had learned how that felt like.

Surgery and rehab took a very long time but Phil had guided his archer all the way through this ordeal, with success. Clint was his old self again shortly after, and their relationship grew very strong afterwards.

**-End of flashback- **

"Phil?" Clint put a hand on Phil's shoulder.

Coulson blinked a few times. The lesson was over and Clint and Mike were giving him worried glances.

"I was lost in thoughts," Phil assured. "I just remembered something from the past."

Mike nodded but remained silent, he thought Phil had remembered his parents.

Clint knew Phil would tell him about it once Mike left so he didn't push the matter, "Let's go back. It's late."

"You're right. It was nice meeting you again Mike. I hope we will see each other before we turn fifty," Phil joked.

"You know where to find me," the other man smiled. "I wish you all the best," Mike bid his goodbye.

"It was fun," Clint pecked Phil on the lip. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Phil placed a gentle kiss on the faded scar behind Clint's ear.

In that moment the archer knew what Phil was thinking about while he watched them.

"Worrywart," Barton said fondly.

"Always," Phil cupped his archer's cheeks and pulled him into a loving kiss.


	14. Day 4

I decided to get up a little earlier and write a new chapter before I have to go to work this evening. I promised my sister to go shopping with her on Saturday after I get finally off of work, to help her to get through her mental breakdown. From 6 p.m. today until 1 p.m. the next day. Yay -.-, at least not a three days shift again or double shift, 24 hours is a normal shift. I hate the shift from Friday morning to Sunday evening most but that's just once a month and I did it last week. Of course I can sleep there at night (how much depends on the mood the youths are in) but that's not the same. Not restless at all.

That's why I don't update as much as I should (or want) at times. Sorry.

I hope the chapter is okay :)

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Clint strolled to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway.

It had surprised him that Phil wasn't in bed with him the moment he woke up but the smell of coffee had given him an idea why his handler had snuck out.

Phil prepared breakfast and didn't seem to notice his archer yet.

The scene in front of him reminded him of the mornings after he lost his hearing and Phil had taken him home with him.

Losing his hearing wasn't something that normally haunted his mind but Phil's trip down memory lane the day before had woken a few memories.

The pain in his head the moment the arrow malfunctioned was agonizing, the last he remembered before his world went dark was feeling the blood leaking out his ears.

Waking up in medical had been a surprise, because he couldn't remember how he ended up there. He needed a while to organize his thoughts and memories.

Phil's presence was what gave him a sense of safety until the older man opened his pretty mouth without making a sound.

It was a shock to realize that it wasn't Coulson's lack of actual words that caused the silence but his damaged ears.

He was deaf. Coulson seemed as surprised as he was about the fact.

Clint couldn't remember much after that, he remembered freaking out. Fighting Phil and the doctors. He remembered Phil's gentle touches and heartbreaking expression. Phil's touches felt good but weren't enough to take away his fears.

The week he had to stay in medical was boring and frightening at the same time. They made test and more test just to confirm that the arrow had destroyed his hearing permanently.

He wasn't sure what to do after he got released. He hated the hearing aids medical provided but he needed them to continue his work.

He needed S.H.I.E.L.D, it was his home. It was all he had.

The walk to the parking lot scared the shit out of him, he felt like everyone was staring at him even though no one knew about his deafness.

Finally reaching the parking lot took a load off his mind. He could breathe again.

Clint had been so unfocused that he didn't sense the man behind him and jerked as someone suddenly took his hand.

He turned to the side, looking into Coulson's kind and understanding eyes. The older man led him to his car, squeezing his hand very tight.

It had been strange to live with Coulson. They watched T.V., they ate together and slept in the same bed. Phil never let him out of sight.

Clint decided to cook for Phil, it was his way to say thank you for caring. Thank you for not letting me down. The archer was depressive, and sometimes very angry. Yelling at Phil and throwing things at him. At least he was sure he yelled something, but he wasn't sure what noises had left his throat.

His mood swings must have been hard to handle for Coulson but he never gave up. Assuring Clint that Nick was working on a solution and that Hawkeye was still a member of Team Coulson.

The first thing he noticed after surgery was Phil's warm hand on his own. The nurses said he never left the room, not even for coffee. Clint felt like crying, Coulson's devotion and honesty was so alien to him that it hurt inside his chest. He was happy and honored by Coulson's display of affection nonetheless.

"Do you intend to stand there all day?" There was amusement in Phil's voice.

"Maybe," Clint smiled. "Smells delicious."

"Eggs, bacon and coffee. There's even orange juice somewhere."

Barton chuckled, "Any plans for today?" Clint wrapped his arms around Phil's middle, resting his chin on the older agent's shoulder.

"I don't know, we can stay here or spend some time in the wood. We have a few hours before we meet with George and Josie." Phil leaned into the embrace.

"I'd love to watch some T.V."

Phil gave Clint a funny look.

"I like cuddling with you in front of the television," the archer shrugged.

"What's going through your mind?"

Clint placed a kiss behind Phil's ear.

"Ah, okay." Phil felt bad for triggering old memories. That had been the beginning of their body contact ritual in front of the television. First they just sat close together, then they leaned against each other and after a while Clint rested his head on Phil's lap while Coulson stroke through the archer's hair.

"I love that we don't need words to understand each other," Clint said happily.

Phil grinned, "It's a great convenience."

"It is," Barton let go of Phil and took a seat.

They ate in comfortable silence and spent a lot of time in each other's arms while they watched T.V. afterwards.

"Nervous?" Phil asked while he drove.

"A little."

"She's a nice person just like George." It surprised Phil on every occasion that meeting new people made Clint so nervous. The archer seemed self-confident and proud of his laid-back attitude. Phil had needed a long time to figure out that it was one of Barton's many masks.

The truth was that Barton was a scared child at heart.

Clint took a deep breath, seeing the sign of George's club."I hate that."

"I know," Phil stopped the car. "Come," he offered Clint his hand.

Clint took the hand and followed his handler inside. "Phil," an elderly woman flung herself at Couslon with a happy smile on her face.

"Josie," Phil didn't let go of Clint's hand and embraced her with one arm.

"Is that Clint?" She eyed the younger man. "He's pretty."

"I know." It was hard not to grin like a maniac.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Oh, so polite. He's awesome. Please, call me Josie." She patted Clint on the arm, not sure if a hug was appreciated.

Clint wondered how Phil managed not to explode with all the pride he was feeling. "Nice to meet you, Josie." He gave her his best drop-dead smile.

She blushed furiously, "Oh my, he's a sweetheart. Coulson you're one hell of a lucky bastard."

"Yep, life is pretty awesome."

Josie laughed, she had never seen Phil so relaxed and happy. The young man was obviously good for him, "George, two beer for our boys."

Most guests stared at them. The gossip about these men spread like a wild fire.

"How are the kids?" Phil joined George at the bar, followed by Josie and Clint.

"Fine," Josie replied. "The baby is cute and healthy."

"I'm very pleased to hear that."

"So Clint," Josie was very interested in Clint. "Tell me something about you."

"There's nothing much to say," he shrugged. "I work with Phil and we finally managed to take the next step."

"What about your family?"

"I'm an orphan. My job and Phil is all I have in this world."

Josie's expression darkened, "Have you at least good memories?"

"No." He nursed his bottle.

"Phil, take good care of him or I'll kick your ass."

"Don't worry," Phil put an arm around Clint. "I made his safety my business a long time ago."

"He does a very good job," the archer confirmed.

"Good," she decided to grill Phil for information the next time she wrote him a letter. Writing letters grew into a habit over the years.

"I heard about your little show two days ago," she changed the topic.

"Bored kids," Clint shook his head.

"True," she confirmed. "They are in jail right now. Sheriff Dexter says they're lucky nobody got hurt or else Judge Michaels would have send them to prison for a very long time."

"You're not soldiers," George whispered. "You must be part of a special unit."

"We are." Phil held George's gaze.

"We are the best." Clint was proud of the fact.

"I believe that," it was strange to see what a man Coulson had become. The angry young man became a calm and skilled soldier.

"Be careful, okay?" Josie didn't like dangerous jobs.

"As best we can," Clint promised.

Josie frowned as Clint turned his head, there was a prominent scar visible on his neck. She reached out and pulled the collar of Clint's shirt down without warning. The scar was huge and not very old. Months maybe, not years.

"Dear god," George's eyes widened.

"A knife," Clint stated. Gesticulating with his hand, not sure what else to say.

"Knife?" She gasped, who the hell put a knife into another humans neck?

"It's a miracle he survived," Phil said sadly. Clint could feel his lover's sadness.

"How?"

"Classified." Phil and Clint said in unison.

Josie and George looked at each other for a moment, communicating without words.

Josie traced the line of the scar with her fingertips. She tried to imagine how that must have felt like.

"One good thing came out of it though. I was bleeding out in Phil's arms and we finally confessed our love," the gentle smile on Clint's face took them by surprise.

Phil mirrored the smile, "I'd have preferred a less scary way to approach the unresolved 'tension' between us."

"Less pain would have been nice, that's true."

"Let's return to a nice topic okay?" They sent a shiver down George's spine. _Special unit, my ass. They are by far more. _

"How did you meet?" Josie was sure that was a safe topic.

"Bleeding out in his arms." The unnerving smile on the kids face returned.

"Uhm," she should have seen that coming. "Sounds like a lot of scars."

"We have our fair share," Phil rubbed unconsciously over the left side of his ribcage.

"Julian called this morning. His wife is pregnant again." George decided that talking about his own life was the only safe way to avoid gory stories.

"More grandchildren?" Phil beamed, "You can open up a soccer team in a few years."

"Great isn't it?" She loved her family.

"It's awesome," Clint cheered. "I think you're great grandparents."

"Thank you," she felt honored. The kid would be a great grandson or son. It was a shame that Clint wasn't part of her family.

"Hey Phil," Chris approached them. He liked the new Coulson. He was strong and certainly rich.

"Chris," Phil greeted without joy.

"I thought you left."

"We leave in a few hours."

Chris sat down next to Phil, brushing his arm against Phil's side.

Clint's eyes narrowed, "What do you want?"

"I want to talk," Chris smiled friendly. But his gaze was challenging.

"Chris," George warned.

"What?"

"Stay away from him," Barton glared. Scaring everyone but Chris.

Josie swallowed hard, the young man was indeed dangerous. "You should leave."

"First I want to talk, or does your watchdog decide with whom you're talking?"

"Normally I decide with whom he talks."

Chris eyes widened in surprise, "Funny. So tell me something about you, we haven't seen each other for ages and our last talk wasn't very informative."

"That's because I have no interest in a conversation with you," Phil used his agent tone of voice.

"After all we had?"

"What did we have? We had sex, that's all it was."

"The sex was great."

"I had better," Phil deadpanned. Josie chuckled.

"Sure," he mocked. "My reputation states that I'm a good catch, if you know what I mean."

"Maybe you have picked up a few skill over the years." Phil suppressed a shiver at the anger Clint was broadcasting. He wasn't jealous about their past relationship, just angry and annoyed.

Barton got up, "Leave him alone. You had your chance and blew it, now it's my turn and I don't intend to screw it up."

Chris got up too, "Scared I could win him back?"

"No," Clint laughed humorless. "You don't stand a chance. But I'm getting angry."

"Chris, piss off," Phil ordered.

The man realized that the damn blond was right. Coulson would never be his again.

"Then keep the old geezer." Chris huffed and turned around to leave, "Have fun with your sugar daddy."

Clint grabbed a knife from the plate next to Josie and threw it at Chris. Nailing Chris's sleeve tight to the doorframe of the exit.

Chris paled visibly, a fork that nailed his shoelace to the ground caused him almost an heart attack.

The bar was dead silent, they watched in awe as the cutlery flew in Chris's direction with more precision than they had ever seen.

"Stay away from us or I will nail your arm onto the wall the next time I see you." Clint threatened.

Chris nodded, pulling out the knife and fork before he fled.

"That was..." George struggled for words.

"I was a circus artist before I joined Phil's organization," the archer shrugged nonchalantly. Phil sighed, "Poser."

"Nope, highly skilled."

The Agent laughed, loud and honest. "Smartass."

"You love me that way." That was a fact.

"True," he pulled Clint into a heated kiss.

"I dare to say I'm glad to be a friend," George could imagine vividly how getting on their bad side would end.

"Believe me, he's harmless. Mostly."

"Compared to you? Yes."

Josie buried her face into her hands, "What have we gotten ourselves into."

The cute young Philip was probably a deadly assassin with deadlier skills than his lover.

That was hard to believe but still waters run deep.

She loved them anyway.


	15. Why now?

"God, I'm so glad you're back," Natasha hugged them tightly. "They're all idiots."

She had been on a mission the past two weeks, she left the day Phil and Clint returned.

"What happened?" Phil glared, hiding his surprise about her open display of affection.

"They are stupid. They aren't you," she said cryptically.

"What have they done?" Clint smirked, preparing himself for kicking asses.

"Talk, that's all they do. Day in and day out, for days. Just to work out a plan. I was stuck with them for fifteen days. Bla, bla, bla,..."

"You didn't get permission to kill anyone, right?" Phil's lip twitched.

Her huff was answer enough, both men laughed at her. "Come, let me see the mission report," Phil offered.

"What's with your hip?" Clint's amusement died. Phil narrowed his eyes, watching her carefully.

She mumbled something but they couldn't understand a single word she said.

"We didn't hear you," Clint chided.

"She threw a pan at me, so, I said it. Satisfied?"

Clint stared at her for a long moment before he had a laughing fit. Phil had a very hard time not to join in. "Black Widow defeated by a frying pan."

"Oh. Ha-ha," she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Sorry," Clint tried to stop laughing without much success.

"Sure you are," she pouted.

"Children behave," Phil put his arms around them and dragged them in the direction of his office.

"Punishing your kids?" Nick smirked as Phil passed by with his bickering assets in tow.

"Naw, you know how they are," Phil stated.

"The Director cluck his tongue, "Take them with you." He pointed in the direction of five junior agents.

"Fledglings," Clint and Natasha said in unison, their bickering forgotten.

"I get the guy on the left and the chick with too much make-up," Natasha said cheerfully.

"Deal," Clint agreed, escaping Phil's hold.

"You know how to keep them busy," Coulson watched his assets ordering the fledglings around.

"I'm the director."

"With all due respect, sir, but you're rather their daddy than their boss." Phil deadpanned before he joined his friends, leaving a stunned Fury behind.

"What do we do with them?" Clint beamed at Phil, taking his breath away.

Phil studied them until they squirmed under his gaze.

"One on one, interrogation and regulations."

"Yes, sir." Natasha's expression changed from mischievous to serious, what scared the hell out of the agents.

Natasha taught them proper hand to hand combat before Clint taught them how to survive an interrogation and how to extract information out of prisoners.

After that Phil hammered S.H.I.E.L.D regulations into their heads.

Over ten hours filled with punches, terror and theory the young agents were ready to cry, begging Fury never to assign them to Team Coulson again.

Their request was denied and they had a week of 'special' training ahead of them.

Weeks passed without dangerous missions or injuries.

Weeks turned into months, two clusterfucks of missions left their marks on their bodies but luckily nothing more than a scar on the arm or deep abrasion on the thigh.

Their life was fine until Nick ordered Clint into his office.

"Hey," Clint slumped down onto his favorite chair.

"We have to talk," the serious tone and expression took Clint's happiness away. Nick hated himself for that.

"You're scaring me sir."

"I have bad news. A new villain showed up a while ago and we are pretty sure he's looking for you. We monitored his activities and our informants are telling us that he's tracing you down."

"It's not the first time one of us got on someone's bad side. I know we are friends but you don't have to worry that much. We know how to handle possible threats. That's what Phil's beloved regulations are for," he forced a smile on his face.

"It's Barney," there was no easy way to drop the bomb.

Clint's shocked and vulnerable expression tore on his heart, "He's coming for you."

The archer remained silent, his mind went completely blank therefore his heart ached painfully.

Phil gasped, placing a hand above his heart.

"Sir? Are you alright?" His secretary asked gently.

Phil was out of his chair and in front of Nick's office in record time, he didn't bother to knock. "Clint!"

"Take him to his room. You're not leaving the HQ until further notice."

Phil opened his mouth to asked why but Nick shook his head, silently telling him not now.

"Clint, come with me," he wrapped a hand around the back of Clint's neck.

Barton got up and followed Phil to his room.

"Sit down. I get you a cup of tea," Phil hurried to the break room and grabbed a pot of tea and two cups.

Clint sat at the exact same spot when he returned, "Drink."

Clint obeyed, taking a shaky breath.

"Ready to tell me what causes your despair?"

_Phil is such a gentle soul_, Clint admired his lover's devotion.

The sadness Phil radiated weight heavy on his soul.

"He's back, he's coming after me to finish what he once started." Clint buried his face in the crook of Phil's neck.

"Who?" Phil was confused and felt a heavy knot in the pit of his stomach.

"Barney," the archer whispered.

Coulson took a sharp breath, "Are you sure?"

Bernard was as good as dead, a Barton or not.

"Nick told me so," it was a nightmare. "He will take away all I hold dear. He always did."

"Not this time. We won't let him."

"He's clever."

"We are many."

"He's my brother. My big brother." He started to cry against his handler's neck.

Phil held him tight, "We will find a way. Wait and see."

"You know as well as I do that this will end badly."

"Don't think that way."

"I see three possibilities: I die, he dies, you die. I don't like the three of them."

"Or you survive, I survive and he's send to prison."

"No," Clint knew that was not an option. Barney would never let it come so far, he'd rather die than end up in prison.

Phil ran short of arguments and decided to keep his mouth shut, consoling his lover with the power of his emotions.

They spent hours in each other's arms until Clint finally fell asleep.

His sleep was anything but peaceful.

Phil rubbed soothing circles over Clint's upper arm, feeling the faded scar beneath his fingertips.

_Barney, why now? What do you want from him? After so many years. He's your brother, what kind of person intends to take his siblings life?_

_Is it revenge? Fun? Jealousy? What is it?_

Phil opened all the files they had about Bernard on his tablet, searching for answers to his questions. He wasn't an analyst or S.H.I.E.L.D profiler but he was skilled enough to figure things out on his own.

Barney had been in jail, for two weeks, before he escaped. Robbery, homicide, blackmailing, assault, and the list went on and on.

It seemed he still worked with the swordsman and his minions. Selling his skills at times to make more money. Assassinations, scaring people, ...

The older Barton was dangerous with a heart as black as coal. He was a nutcase and lost cause.

He was probably still jealous of Clint's skills and he might had heard about Clint's 'new' life with S.H.I.E.L.D.

The younger Barton made it pretty far in life even though he was an 'uneducated' criminal.

Clint lived on the bright side of life while Barton lived in the shadows.

Clint's shadow to be exact.

_Has daddy hurt you more?_

_Had mommy cuddled you less?_

Phil sighed in frustration, they lacked the right information to think their way into his mind and anticipate Barney's next move.

All Phil knew was that somewhere something went terribly wrong between them.

Barney was most likely an angry kid who grew into an even angrier adult.

Children are born with an inner strength that varies from kid to kid.

Clint possessed a strong inner strength, giving him the ability to handle everything life threw at him without losing his humanity.

Barney on the other hand had been not strong enough to handle his fate and turn into a respectable adult.

Clint was resilient and Barney not, it was sad but not uncommon.

Phil turned off his tablet and snuggled up to his archer, watching him sleep.

He would protect his archer, no matter what, even if he had to kill the older Barton.

Phil caressed his lover's cheek, _he looks so sad. What are you dreaming about? _

_Do you dream about better times? About a time he didn't hate you? _

_You once said he's violent, did he ever hit you? Of course he did. He left you for dead after all. He's your daddy's boy through and through. You probably inherited your mother's character traits. Your character has just one big flaw, your urge to sacrifice yourself for others. You give and give and give, never asking for anything in return. I say jump and you ask how high? Nick says die, and you would. _

_You turned out pretty awesome._

_Damn I love you._

Phil closed his eyes too tired to watch over his archer any longer.


	16. Diamonds are a girl's best friend

The director decided to send Clint back into the field. He couldn't hide Clint away forever and he was too valuable to do so.

It didn't mean that Nick wasn't worried.

He would never say so but he was scared.

Clint was his boy, kind of.

The shabby and scrawny kid he had bailed out of jail and picked up on the street so many years ago.

Fury grew fond of him, he wasn't sure why Barton was so different than anyone else he recruited.

Only a handful of people touched his heart, worming their way deep into his heart until he would take the love he held for them with him to his grave. Coulson, Barton, Sitwell, Hill and Romanoff were his family.

Sure his ex-wife and their baby were part of his life too but they weren't meant to be.

Clint was more his son than his own boy ever was.

A huge factor was the fact that he spent all his time with S.H.I.E.L.D, just like Clint.

He barely saw his own son, she didn't even tell him about the child. Nick found out purely by chance.

She knew he could never be what they needed him to be.

"Do you think we make the right choice?" Phil leaned against the doorframe of Nick's office.

"I hope so, and we have to grant him some freedom. He's getting edgy."

"I know, he feels caged. He hates that. Feeling trapped is almost as bad as the knowledge that his own brother is out for blood."

"We will get him," Nick vowed. "I'll do anything to keep him safe."

"I know, but I know just as well that you will sacrifice one of us for the sake of many." There was no accusation in his words, it was a fact.

"Yeah, I would." Nick wasn't proud of it and prayed he never had to make such a call.

"It's the right choice. I think I can't do that anymore. I never liked it and I'm scared I have to choose one day."

"You'd make the right call."

"But do I want to do the right thing?" Coulson mused.

"Hopefully we will never know." Losing a friend was hard. Nick buried many friends over the years. He was always a little relieved he never let them close enough to break in case they die.

Nick knew losing one of his dysfunctional family members would break a big part of his heart.

"I think he lays low, waiting for the right time to strike." Phil was edgy too. Clint's emotions were hard to handle, not to mention his own anger and fears.

"That's for sure." Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, "I want to send you to Russia. There are a few Red Room agents we need to take out."

"Do we leave Widow here?"

"No, taker her with you. We need an insider. She will provide information, we can't send her in but we can use all her knowledge."

"Do you trust her enough to risk it?"

"Do you?" Nick asked back.

Phil remained silent, the answer was clear. Yes, they did trust her enough to have their backs, even in a fight against Red Room.

She probably hated them more than anything.

They took all she held dear and made a ruthless assassin out of her.

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, I send the file to you within the hour."

Phil nodded and turned around to leave.

"Phil," Fury's voice stopped him. "Be careful and good luck."

A little smile appeared on Coulson's lips, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Nick watched his best friend leave with a heavy heart.

:::::::::::::::

"What makes you so happy? And worried?! How's that even possible?" Clint dropped down from the ceiling and landed in front of Phil's desk.

"Fury has a mission for us."

"Has he?" Clint's eyes gleamed at the prospect of freedom.

"Russia. We have to liquidate a few Red Room agents."

"Are you worried about Nat?"

"A little," Phil confessed. "But what worries me more is your brother. We still don't know where he is."

"If he wants to find me he will find me, no matter how careful we are," his brother was a pro. Swordsman taught him a lot of useful skills.

"I want him behind bars or in a coffin," a pang of sadness hit him and he regretted his poor choice of words.

"You know, I know he's dangerous and evil at times but I can't hate him. I know I should, I know he deserves it but I'm not able to hate him."

"I don't expect you to hate him. I hate him enough for both of us. I wish we had other options, believe me I do. I can't bear seeing you so sad, ..., I can't picture an happy end." Phil knew they needed a miracle to get an outcome Clint could live with.

"So, when do we leave?" He needed a new topic, he couldn't bear to talk about Barney any longer.

"Tomorrow," Phil placed a soft kiss on Clint's temple. "I've sent Nat a mail. I hope she's able to cope with the op. "

"She hates them. She will do what she can to help us and there's no way she switches sides during the mission."

"I'm relieved," no one knew her better than Clint did.

"I know you are." Clint smiled, he loved their bond. He wasn't sure when exactly that happened but it became familiar and special. What started as a curse turned into something beautiful. It was the best thing that ever happened to him, except from meeting Phil and Nat, and Nick. Clint wasn't sure how Phil felt about it but he hoped Phil's feelings resembled his own.

"What are you brooding about?" The Agent frowned.

"Us," smile still firm in place.

"Us?" Phil used his best I-demand-answers-now kind of voice.

"I'm happy that's all," Barton didn't consider it safe to ask about Phil's feelings regarding the bond at that point.

"I can feel that but there's a hint of insecurity that worries me," Phil was almost always worried since the beginning of their bond.

"Just my lack of self-esteem," his smile dropped, replaced by a serious but nonetheless loving expression.

Coulson sighed, "I have to put more effort into it then." He got up and wrapped his arms around his archer, pinning his lover against the desk.

"No you don't," Clint returned the embrace. "It's on me to work on it."

"Nothing will stop me. It's my private mission to fix you. Not because I have to but because I want to."

"And you're my mission," Clint knew Coulson was broken too. Maybe not as damaged as he was but damaged nonetheless.

"You never cease to amaze me," Phil would have preferred that Clint put his efforts into his own well being but he understood that Clint wanted to care for him. What worried him a little was Clint's tendency to forget himself over others.

He wasn't able to care for himself, Phil had seen him try but the younger man lacked the ability to do it.

It was heartbreaking to watch him struggle.

He decided to care for Clint a long time ago and his urge to do that grew more and more with each passing day.

"I accept the mission," Natasha appeared out of nowhere. Not sorry for interrupting them at all.

"Glad to hear that agent," Coulson gave her a nod, studying her expression.

"We have to make preparations," Barton let go of his lover. "See you later," he kissed Phil on the lip.

"See you later," Phil ruffled his archer's hair before he returned to his paperwork.

:::::::::::::::

Taking out the Red Room agents was surprisingly easy. Natasha cursed that they weren't what they used to be and she was probably right.

But Phil had the suspicion that the lack of protection meant that they ran right into a trap.

If it was a trap to get them or to get rid of their unwanted agents he didn't know but he could feel that something wasn't right.

"Let's get out of the country," Phil ordered. "Before trouble finds us."

"I think therefore it's too late," Clint's voice appeared in his ear.

"Why is that?"

"They surround the safe house," Clint eyed them from the roof. "We have to get here out of there."

Phil's mind raced, searching for a wait out, "Stay put." He walked back to the safe house as fast he could without being suspicious.

"There's not enough time to wait," Clint was already halfway down the building.

"Stay where you are," Phil said firm.

Clint stopped, he had a hard time to obey. "I hope you have a plan, sir."

"Have I ever let you down?"

"No, of course not." Clint reassured his lover. Phil would never let them down intentionally.

"Then wait." Phil spied the jeweler's shop in the building next to their hideout. He stole a scarf, hat and put on his gloves before he raided the shop. Making sure they had time enough to alarm the police. He vanished as fast as he appeared. He watched with satisfaction as the police surrounded the building, searching the streets for the culprit.

"They back down," Clint informed him.

"Take them out." The archer waited until they were far enough away from their hideout not to raise suspicions and lead the police right to their door. He took them out while Phil took care of the two agents who stayed behind to get their work done.

"What took you so long?" Natasha lay on the ground, legs wrapped around an Red Room agent's neck. She looked relaxed despite the fact that the agent struggled desperately to get some air into his lungs.

"I've brought you a present," he held up a necklace decorated with diamonds and emeralds.

"Pretty," she let go of the agent after he stopped struggling. "You have better taste than your mean boyfriend." Nat snatched the necklace out of his hand, hiding it beneath her clothes.

"Let's go, Clint's waiting at the extraction point."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Ah, shut up. I'm not making out with the widow." Phil said annoyed and could feel a wave of amusement. "Radio silence, idiot."

Natasha chuckled, their relationship never stopped to amuse her. She couldn't deny that she was jealous at times but as much as they loved each other they never forgot about her and that meant a lot. She was still important and loved.


	17. Big step

Time passed and it was time for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s annual banquet again. It was close to the end of the year and all agents celebrated their surviving together. They mourned the fallen and celebrated the living.

It was a special occasion for Clint and Phil this year, because the archer almost lost his life. Not as if it had been the first time but it was different than all the other times before.

Phil chose that exact night for a surprise, to hell with his fellow agents should they not approve. Fury did approve and so did Natasha, that was all he needed.

The past months made him think and re-evaluate his life including priorities and dreams, especially his dreams.

Life was precious and so easily taken away. They had more than one close call during their career and only because they were lucky enough to get away with it didn't mean their time wouldn't come one day. The Grim Reaper was waiting, aching for their souls.

"Nervous?" Fury gave him a glass of whisky to sooth his nerves.

"As hell," Phil wanted nothing more than chicken out but that was absolutely out of question. He made his decision, _I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent for god's sake, I face aliens and maniacs. I can do that..._

Nick chuckled next to him, "I think we finally found a weakness in our dear Coulson's cool demeanor."

"Ah, shut up, Nick. I remember your disastrous plan wooing Chen."

Fury groaned, "Thanks for reminding me."

"You're welcome."

The director gave him an annoyed glare.

Phil looked at his watch, Clint was late.

The archer had a short mission and had called Phil to inform him that he was going home afterwards to take show and change. That was a few hours ago.

Clint should have been there by now. Their bond was all that kept Coulson sane at the moment. His, hopefully, soon to be husband was alive and not in pain, or scared.

Coulson was sure he managed to avoid harm and finished his assignment without getting caught.

"Here he is," Nick elbowed his friend in the side. Tilting his head in Barton's direction with an amused smile on his face.

Phil forgot how to breath the moment he caught sight of his Hawk.

Barton wore a suit, without tie but nonetheless a clean-cut appearance.

Black trousers, shiny black dress shoes, dark purple dress shirt and black jacket. Thw first two buttons of his shirt were open, revealing his strong neck.

His shirt was neatly tucked into his trousers.

It was the first time Phil saw his lover in formal clothes with well trimmed hair.

His hair was a little spiky but it suited his appearance.

Barton looked stunning.

"Hey gorgeous, missed me?" Clint flashed him a bright smile. The dumbstruck way Phil looked at him was adorable and made him blush a little.

That was the reaction he'd hoped for, he wasn't so sure Phil would appreciate his new style.

But it never hurt to hope, mostly.

"You look,..., good," Phil remembered how to use his mouth.

"I hope so. I don't want to embarrass you in front of your men."

"Who are you and what have you done to my archer?" Coulson deadpanned.

"Huh, your archer?" Clint smirked, "I think Fury still has a say in it. He doesn't like to share his assets."

"I don't like to share either, especially not my archer," Phil replied with an amused glitter in his eyes.

"Good, I don't share either."

"But they wish you would," Phil glared at a group of agents.

"Let them dream," Barton straightened his back. "Sir, would you like to dance with me?"

Phil's ears turned pink, "I'd love to."

Barton grinned like a school boy while he grabbed Coulson's hand and dragged him on the dance floor.

Their comrades stared at them, Specialist Barton wearing a suit and agent Coulson dancing was too much for their brains to work with.

Barton was the center of attention since he stepped into the room. Many women and even a few men envied the stoic agent for the good catch he made.

"Aren't they cute?" Joseph whispered to Jason.

"No one is as cute as we are," the man smiled and motioned his lover to follow him to the dance floor.

Natasha smiled at them, she looked pretty in her black dress, wearing the necklace Phil stole for her. It warmed her heart to see the two most important persons in her life dance together, without a trace of danger around them.

Clint wasn't surprised that Phil could dance, he was an upper-class kid after all and not as shy and clumsy as he wanted people to believe.

Phil on the other hand was more than surprised that Clint could dance. Oh, he had seen him dance in clubs to woo a target or check out the area but what surprised him was that Clint could dance a waltz.

"Marina taught me how," Barton read the question on his lover's face. "She was a dancer at the circus."

"What else did she teach you?" Phil was a little bit jealous of her. What kind of woman taught a pretty young man to dance without ulterior motives? Except from dance schools.

"Ballet, classical dance and Yoga," Clint laughed. "She made sure I get more flexible. I had the choice between dancing with her or more training sessions with Jacques. I chose dancing. She was around fifty at that time. But very flexible. I'm sure she will still do a split without breaking out in sweat at the age of 110."

Phil laughed at that, feeling silly for being jealous. "They taught you a lot of things."

"That they did. Dancing, archery, cooking, surviving, stealing. Okay I was good at the stealing thing even before I joined them but they taught me the art of stealing." There was no remorse or shame in his voice, just amusement about long forgotten childhood memories.

"You're a very good thief. You stole my heart without me knowing it. One day it was right here," Phil placed a hand on his own chest right above his heart. "And before I knew what was happening it was right there," he moved his heart from his chest to Barton's. Feeling the strong beat of his Hawk's heart beneath his hand.

"Then you're a damn fine thief yourself," Clint covered Phil's hand with his own. "You took it away in the blink of an eye."

Coulson new that was not an easy task, Barton guarded his emotions well and tried hard to keep people at distance. Phil had no clue what made him so special that Clint gave a fuck about his self-protection and he didn't care. The fact that he broke through the archer's protection wall was all that mattered.

"I'm Agent Coulson," was all Phil had to say.

"You're Agent Coulson," Clint smiled. "I love both of you."

"Both?"

"Phil and Agent Coulson."

"You're insane," Phil huffed. There was no difference.

"I mean I love the man I work with who's all professional, predictive and level headed. And I love the man I come home to who's gentle, caring and not highly reserved."

"Is there a betting pool going on for making me blush like a school girl," Coulson joked.

_That was cruel_, he thought as Clint's smile disappeared. "Hey," he tighten his hold on Clint as the younger man tried to get away from him. "I'm sorry that was a mean thing to say. I wasn't serious about it."

"Sometimes it's hard to tell," the older man could hide his emotions like no other.

"Close your eyes and listen," Phil ordered, banishing the nervousness from the bond.

The thought of proposing scared the hell out of him and he had a hard time not to broadcast all his nervousness. The ring box in his jacket pocket seemed to burn itself through the fabric of his jacket, leaving a hot feeling on his skin where it made contact with his side.

Phil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes as the song Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash popped into his mind.

He chose the party to prove that he wasn't ashamed of them, he wanted to show that he understood that S.H.I.E.L.D. was Clint's home, his refuge, and he intended to make it clear whom the archer belonged to.

Clint would probably make an agent's ring to rule them all remark and tease him for all eternity that he was thinking about Johnny Cash of all people and references.

Nope, his lover would never hear about the thoughts he had shortly before he proposed or else he'd never live this down.

"What makes you so edgy?" Clint looked around, searching for a threat. All he saw were people staring at them, whispering and gossiping.

_Does it disturb you? Maybe dancing wasn't my brightest idea, or wearing a suit instead of jeans and shirt like all the other years before. _Clint tried to get away from his handler again.

_Damn_, Phil sighed, _so much for not sending nettlesome signals._ "I was just thinking."

"We should pause. Do you want a drink? I can get you something."

"Clint," Phil cupped Clint's face in his hands. "It's not what you think. At least I think so."

"It's not the attention we get?"

"No," Phil looked around for a short moment. Assessing the people around them.

_Now or never, if they're waiting for a show I will give them something to remember._

He locked eyes with Nick and Nat for a second, getting encouraging nods and smiles.

Phil returned his gaze to Clint. "You make me worry," the young man seemed unsure of himself.

Phil placed a gentle kiss against his archer's lips before he got down on his knee, with a velvet box in his hand. "Do you want to marry me?"

The agents gasped in surprised no one saw that one coming. The stoic and cold agent got on his knee to propose. If you had asked them a minute before they would have sworn that Agent Phillip "bad-ass" Coulson would never do such a thing, and much less in public.

Phil waited for an answer, not liking the feelings Clint broadcasted.

Shock clearly written on his face while surprise and wonder streamed through the bond.

What gave Phil hope was the fact that his Hawk didn't feel disgusted or angry.

"I, ..., are ..., are you sure you want me?" The insecurity in Clint's voice tore on his heart.

"I wouldn't ask," Phil gave him a reassuring smile.

Clint knew Phil loved him but he never truly believed that someone would want to marry him.

Not even Phil.

"We talked about kids and a dog," Phil said patiently, "why is my proposal such a surprise?"

A huge smile appeared on the archer's face, _he's right_, "I'd love to marry you." It was more a whisper than the loud and self-confident declaration every one anticipated from Barton.

Coulson put the ring on Clint's finger before he got up and pulled his fiancé into a heated kiss in front of their comrades. The crowd cheered, even Nick was drunk enough to join in without giving a damn about his reputation. They're his best friends after all.

Not all of them were happy though, they eyed the couple with disgust in their eyes but they were outnumbered. Ricardo congratulated them first, followed by Joseph and Jason.

Fury, Hill, Sitwell and Romanoff made their approval clear. Showing their fellow agents that Coulson and Barton had mighty friends, very mighty. No one in their right mind would dare to mess with them.

Phil was beet red but incredible happy and Clint was happy too, Phil could sense it.

He loved it to make his archer happy, Clint deserved it.

"I love you," Clint grinned goofily. "I really, really love you." Why Coulson loved him and wanted to be his husband didn't matter, all that mattered was that it was real.

His handler was faithful and never lied. Phil wasn't toying with him. Phil would keep him safe and sound. He would put up with all his shit, never giving up on him.

"I'm Clinton Francis Coulson," he beamed even more.

Phil hoped someone was taking pictures right now, "I'd prefer a double name, Phillip Coulson-Barton."

"Clinton Francis Coulson-Barton," Clint tried. Phil was right a double name would prevent confusion. It was probably better to keep their original family name in the field to protect the other. Coulson and Coulson could be dangerous if they get caught together.

"Don't think so much, enjoy the day." Phil smacked him upside the head, with a fond expression on his face.

"Yes, sir."

Phil shook his head at his archer's behavior. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Clint tilted his head, gazing at his lover with bright blue eyes and Phil new that he made the right decision. The archer was childish, insecure and had many more flaws but these flaws defined the archer, they made him human even though he killed for a living.

Clint was gentler than Phil ever was, he was more human than Hill would ever be and he was more loyal than Natasha.

Coulson took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. "Let's go home."

Clint took the hand Phil offered and squeezed it tight, "Can we have tomorrow off?" The archer gave Nick a hopeful look.

Fury couldn't deny his request, not at the way his friend was looking at him. Happy, hopeful. "You get two." He wanted to smack himself for his weakness.

"You're awesome sir." Clint saluted before he led Coulson out of the room.

"We have a wedding to plan," Natasha tried not to smile but Nick saw right through her.

"I organize Phil's bachelor party, you can plan Clint's." Fury wasn't keen on planning both their parties. _No father wants to take part in his son's bachelor party_, he shuddered at the thought, _aw hell I'm referring to myself as his daddy. God help us all_.

"Deal," she agreed. "I'm his best-man too."

Fury raised a brow, "I'm Phil's then."

"Hm."

"What?"

"Who gives Clint away?" Natasha frowned slightly before a sly smile appeared on her pretty face.

"I don't like the way you think," he stated. "Okay, I give him away and then I'll take my rightful place at Phil's side. Happy?" Yep, even one Nick Fury broke under Black Widows glare.

"Actually, yes." She nodded and headed for Hill, bullying her into being a bridesmaid.


	18. I'm sorry

"Just because we're getting married doesn't mean you can ignore my orders and get away with it." Phil warned.

"I have always bent them, so it does not matter if married or not. I do what I think is right." His handler was angry at him again, like so often since their engagement but Clint wasn't worried. Coulson had issues too and Clint would guide him through it. He owed Phil one, or rather a lot. Clint banished his own insecurities into the depths of his mind to prevent himself from reacting impatient and hurt. Phil's feelings were his top priority at the moment, his own feelings didn't matter.

"That's why you gather reprimand after reprimand."

"My last reprimand is over four years old," Clint pointed out.

"Your last reprimand is one minute old," it was more a threat than a statement.

Barton sighed on the other end of the radio, there was a hint of frustration in his part of the bond and Phil felt bad for starting the fight. "Hawkeye,..."

Clint interrupted him before he could finish his sentence, "Let's not do this here. We can fight and make up at home." He put as much humor into his voice as he could muster.

"See you in five," Phil turned off the radio. Chiding himself for venting his frustration at his lover.

"Where's Phil?" Clint arrived at the meeting point after they successfully finished their mission against Hydra terrorists in New York City.

"I thought he's with you," Hill said coolly.

"No," panic bubbled in his chest. Phil was annoyed mixed with a hint of anger and Clint thought it was just a normal reaction to one of the juniors.

An arrow pierced the ground next to Clint's feet. Clint spied the piece of paper which was wrapped around the shaft.

His anger grew and he stormed off, ignoring Maria's calls.

Clint headed for a 40 story building close to Phil's last known location.

"I'm glad you could make it," Barney leaned against the ventilation system on the roof. Arms crossed in front of his chest, smirk firm in place. "Your boy toy isn't much fun."

Clint glared at his brother before his eyes searched for Phil. The older man sat close to the railing, pinioned and gagged.

Barney shrugged at his brother's death-glare, "I don't like the way he talks."

"Too many difficult words?" Clint couldn't help it.

"He's rubbing off on you, I don't like that much." Barney studied his brother. The way he moved, behaved and talked. The younger man wasn't his little brother. That was not the man he left behind all those years ago. His brother was weak and dumb. That guy was strong and possessed a kind of strength in the depth of his eyes Clinton never had.

"Why, because you can't push me around to your liking?"

"One reason, yeah." Barney's expression darkened, his hand wandered to the knife he hid in his belt.

"What do you want? Why are you here?"

"To claim my rightful place at the top. Bernard Barton the world's best marksman. I like the sound of it."

"That's the only reason?" Clint huffed, "You'll never be as good as I am. You never could hit the target without looking. You never possessed enough ambition to master the sport. You lack the love for archery."

"And you love it?"

"Yes, I do." Clint clarified, "It's my life. It made who I am today."

"A S.H.I.E.L.D assassin, Fury's lapdog and Coulson's doll. I dare to say I lead a better life."

"I don't think so but that's not important. Let him go and we can jump on each other's throats."

"He stays where he is," the older Barton had a plan. It sent a shiver down Phil's spine.

Barney drew the knife and jumped at Clint.

Hawkeye drew his own combat knife and tried to defend himself, avoiding to cause his brother any harm.

Barney didn't care for his brother, he fought with all his might. Aiming to kill.

Both panted heavily, bleeding from various wounds. Nothing life threatening but painful nonetheless.

"Clint," Phil screamed into his gag. Struggling against the rope around his wrists.

Clint turned around avoiding a direct his to the gut, therefore the knife left a long cut along his back.

Barney was fast and improvised the moment Clint turned away from him, watching with satisfaction as the fabric of his brother's vest turned red.

Clint felt Phil's rage and agitation, it was all that kept him upright at the moment. The younger Barton ducked a hit before he threw himself at his brother, pinning the older Barton to the ground.

Barney knew he was inferior and gathered his strength to push Clint away.

He used the time Clint needed to get up to reach for Couslon and use him as a shield.

"Let him go. That's not fair." Clint glared.

"I never said I play fair. I want to hurt you, destroy you. There's more than one way to archive my goal," Barney smirked.

Clint made a dive for his bow, pointing it at his big brother.

Barney pressed his knife against Coulson's neck, waking bad memories in Clint.

Phil could feel the intense feeling of panic as the knife made contact with the soft skin of his neck. He tried to send all his confidence to Clint.

Clint calmed down a little, "What now?"

"Kill him, or me. You have to chose between us. Do you want to save your boyfriend or your big brother? Maybe I will even take you with me instead of killing you. The famous Barton brother's, reunited and stronger than ever."

Tears welled up in the younger Barton's eyes, he knew Barney would kill Phil if he tried to save the agent. He knew Barney would kill him should he try to go against the rules of his sick game. He knew all Barney said about being together again was a lie. He had no chance to shoot at Barney from his angle and his brother knew that and he knew that Clint loved him no matter what he did.

Barney was his big brother after all, his family.

"You kill him or I do it," Barney reminded him impatiently.

"I'm sorry," a single tear escaped his glassy eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Phil knew Barney was Clint's next of kin. He was his family, his blood. It was not such a surprise that he lost against the older Barton. At least it was Clint who would take his life and not Barney.

Coulson gave his lover a reassuring smile, "It's okay." He could feel Clint's despair, self hatred and sadness.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered again before he let his arrow fly.

Phil was ready for the pain and hoped he would die quick. The pain was awful but to his surprise he didn't drop dead. Phil dropped to his knees due to the pain in his shoulder as he heard a body hit the ground. He turned his head to take a look at the older Barton.

His eyes widened, the arrow which pierced his shoulder lodged itself deep into Bernard's heart. Clint's apology had been just partly for him. He knew he had to hurt his lover to kill his big brother.

"Clint," Phil looked up at his archer. The broken look and the numbness in his soul were frighteningly disturbing.

"I'm sorry," he stared at his brother's dead body without to blink. "I'm so sorry."

"Coulson," Maria's voice appeared from the doorway. "What happened?"

Clint's whole body trembled, it was hard to breath. He couldn't believe that he killed his own brother. He took Barney's life to save Phil's. He didn't regret saving Phil but killing his brother hurt like hell. Clint's eyes wandered to Phil, who's pain stricken face was pale. Coulson was bleeding heavily but the wound wasn't life threatening as long as he got medical attention, at least that was what he hoped.

Phil wanted to say something but black dots appeared in his vision, foreboding the approaching darkness. He blacked out before he got a chance to sooth Clint's fears.

Phil awoke in medical a few hours later, "Nat?"

To his surprise it was Romanoff who sat next to his bed, holding his hand. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Groggy."

"You lost a lot of blood, but rehab won't take long. The arrow caused a small amount of damage," she explained.

"Where is he?" Phil tried to stay awake, he had to find Clint.

"We don't know," she had no clue where her friend was hiding. Not even Nick was able to find a trace.

"I have to find him," Phil tried to get up.

Natasha pulled something out of her pocket. A sting made him aware of the fact that she was holding a syringe containing a tranquilizer.

He vowed to dump all his paperwork on her once he was able to escape medical on his own.

Eight hours later Phil used the chance he got to escape med bay. Natasha had left the room to get something to eat. The wedding band on his bed table told him all he needed to know about Clint's current condition. The young man felt guilty for hurting him and he felt even more guilty for taking his brother's life. Coulson wasn't sure what pained his archer most.

He put the ring into his pocket and sneaked out of HQ, using a few of Clint's secret passageways to avoid doctors and colleagues. There was no time to dwell on the fact that Clint broke off their engagement. He could whine about it after he found and consoled his boy.

It took one hour for Phil to find his archer. He hid in a motel outside of town.

"Hey," Phil picked the lock and approached the bed where his asset lay.

Barton lay perfectly still, ignoring Phil's presence.

Coulson sighed and settled down on the bed, he placed his hand on Clint's shoulder. "I'm surprised they couldn't find you. It just took me an hour to find you."

Clint let out a soft sob but didn't reply.

"You can't just disappear. I almost got a heart attack after waking up with Natasha by my side, telling me you went into hiding."

Having Phil by his side felt good and he was glad that Phil was alright. His memory was a blur and he wasn't sure how sever he'd hurt his handler.

"I'm fine." Phil lay down next to his asset, putting his arms protectively around him, "My shoulder will heal in no time. I'm sorry about Barney. I know you loved him and I can feel how hard it is to handle the knowledge that you killed him. You know how I feel about it and I hope you know as well that I'm not angry at you for shooting me."

"You thought I would kill you." Clint whispered barely audible, "You thought I choose him over you and you'd every right to. There was a short moment I considered the possibility."

"But you didn't. He's your brother, your blood and last tie to the past." Phil nuzzled his archer's neck, "I'm not angry at you. To be honest, I'm damn proud of you."

"Proud," Clint huffed in disbelief.

"Yes, proud. What you did was brave. You didn't cave in, you did what you had to. Like you said you do what you think is right."

"I hurt you, how can that be right?"

"You hurt me to save me. You chose me over your brother. Your choice tells me everything I need to know. You love me, your able to act like an agent even though I'm in danger, you chose the right side of the law, renouncing delinquency. You made your choice, forming your own destiny, choosing a life with me." Coulson tightened his embrace as the younger man began to cry.

"Hush," he placed butterfly kissed over Clint's neck. "Hush, it will be alright."


	19. Guilt

Thank you so much for your lovely reviews :)

I do my best to write a longer chapter next time. I have to work a three-days shift this weekend, I think I can update next week again.

Thanks again for your support!

_:::::::::::::::::::::::_

_"Barney, you don't have to do that. We can train together, we can be equals. Think about it, please."_

_The older Barton drew his knife, ready to attack. Hate burning in his eyes._

_"Don't," Clint said desperately before he fought back. His knife grazed his beloved Brother's arm before the next thrust sliced through the flesh on the right side of his ribcage. _

_Barney let out an angry yell shortly before he jumped at him again. _

_"Die, you worthless leech. You're a disgrace. The shame of the Barton family." Disgust clear in his eyes, penetrating Clint's heart and soul._

_They stumbled to the ground under the force of Clint's body hitting Barney's._

_Barney freed himself and dragged Phil in front of him, using him as a human shield. _

_The disappointment in Phil's eyes cut through his heart like a knife, "you failed me. I trusted you and you failed protecting me." The agent's voice dripped with venom._

_"I'm sorry, Phil," he pointed his arrow at Phil. "I'm sorry," he let his arrow fly, piercing both their hearts. _

_The two persons he held so dear lay on the ground, staring with lifeless eyes at the bright blue sky above their dead bodies. _

_His brother's eyes were empty, there was no trace left of the hate and disgust they held a moment ago. _

_A fine line of blood trickled down the corner of Barney's mouth._

Clint awoke with a heartbreaking scream. Scaring Phil to the core.

"Clint?" He sat up, hissing in pain as the movement tore on his wound. "It was just a nightmare. It was just a dream, oh god, calm down."

Clint's whole body trembled while he struggled to get some air into his lungs. Sweat dripped down his flushed skin, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you Barney, I love you. Phil?!"

The archer panicked even more at the thought of his beloved handler, his eyes widened incredibly.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he mumbled to the ghosts only he could see.

"Look at me." Phil moved into Clint's line of vision, placing a hand on his archer's hot and tearstained cheek. "I'm here."

Clint looked at him without seeing him.

"Breath," Coulson urged, "yeah. Like that. Attaboy." He pulled Clint closer with one hand.

His pain medication faded a while ago and he wasn't able to lift his left arm.

Clint buried his face in the crook of Phil's neck, inhaling his scent and absorbing his warmth.

The body against his own wasn't cold like death but warm and very much alive.

His Phil was alive.

Alive and by his side. "Phil."

"It's okay," Phil whispered. "It's okay. I'm fine."

"I should have begged him to stop. I should have told him I care. I should have, ..., I should, ..., I never told him how much I love him. I- I killed him, oh god I killed him. He's gone. He's gone."

Phil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying not to cry himself.

The bond was burning with despair just like Clint's voice and body.

"He made up his mind. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening. Barney knew damn well how much you love him, he wouldn't have tried to use it against you otherwise." The agent rambled, what else could he say?

Nothing could make it right. Nothing could sooth Barton's pain.

"I love him so."

"I know you do," Phil kissed the side of Clint's head. "But hard as it is, he did not."

"There was a time he did," the archer whispered gently, "he protected me from dad. He played with me because no one else would. He guided me through my youth. The orphanage, the circus. He was all I had..., I considered letting you die to keep the past."

"But you didn't."

"I didn't," _But I put an arrow through your shoulder. I caused you pain, spilling your blood._

Nausea hit him full force and he shoved Phil aside to reach the bathroom in time.

Phil needed a few minutes to catch his breath, breathing through the pain in his shoulder.

He cursed himself and his traitorous body while he listened to his lover's retching.

He got carefully up and walked to the small bathroom. "Try to relax," he rubbed Clint's back.

Barton's body was tense and there was nothing left but aside from bile. His stomach twisted painfully.

"Leave," Clint panted, almost pleading.

"No," Phil denied serious. "I'm not going anywhere."

Coulson frowned at the orangey discoloration on his hand, it smelled of copper. The archer's vest was still soaked in blood, obviously no one attended to his wounds.

He chided himself for not thinking of it sooner.

His lover ran a fever not caused by his nightmare but by his, most probably, infected cuts.

"Wait here," Phil ordered after the retching subsided. He sent Natasha a text and searched for clean clothes and a first aid kit. He had hoped to find at least something clean that he could use as a makeshift bandage but except for a towel there was nothing Phil would consider as clean.

_None of it available. Shithole_, Phil cursed.

He reentered the bathroom and put a towel into the sink before he turned on the water.

Clint still sat on the ground where Phil had left him, lost in thoughts.

Wringing out the towel with one hand was not an easy task but Phil was Phil. He could kill you with a paperclip therefore he wouldn't give in wetting a towel.

"Strip," he made it an order, not sure if Phil was the right role to play right now so he chose Coulson instead. Barton always listened to his Agent Coulson. He was the archer's safety line out in the field. The one who always knew what was best.

Clint reacted to the order and shed his vest, struggling with his undershirt.

He was too exhausted to take off his trousers.

Phil winced at the sight in front of him. His lover's chest was badly bruised and two knife wounds graced his right side, one his left arm and one his right wrist.

Coulson tried to clean them as best he could before he helped his asset to turn around.

The gash on his back was deep and large.

Phil sighed, "That needs stitches."

"Okay," Clint jerked as the towel made contact with his sensitive skin. It burned like fire.

"Breath," Coulson remained in his agent role. Barton needed his handler right now, not his lover. "In and out."

Clint did as he was told. "Thank you," he stated suddenly.

"What for?" With Clint you could never know, it could be anything.

"Barton didn't reply but a well known sensation slid into the bond.

Love.

His archer was thankful for Phil's presence, here in the shabby motel. He was thankful for not being abandoned. "I love you, too." Phil kissed Clint's neck, "I told you I will not leave you no matter what."

The love his archer radiated was soon replaced by a heavy sense of guild. Clint was ashamed of his own actions.

"You saved my life," Phil tried to approach the subject again. He decided to switch back to his Phil persona. "I would be dead without your help."

"You wouldn't have been in such danger without me."

"You're right but there are many more assassins out there hunting us down. One by one. This time it was your brother, next time it will be someone else. Things like that happen in our line of work. You know that. I mean Fadhil, Deuce, Doc Ock, Doom,..."

"But they didn't put an arrow through your shoulder."

"Not yet," Phil deadpanned. "Maybe one day."

"Don't say that." It was too much.

"But it's true."

Clint couldn't argue with that, "I shot you. I'm supposed to love you, I'm supposed to treasure and protect you. I hurt you intentionally, without a second thought. I let you down. I don't deserve your love."

"Yes, you do deserve it," Phil took the ring out of his pocket. That explained why Clint left it behind. "You did nothing wrong."

Clint pulled away the moment Phil reached for his hand to put the ring back on its rightful place.

"No," he shook his head vehemently. "No, a husband does not shoot at his husband. I- I can't."

The pain in Phil's heart hurt terribly but it was better that way, it was the right thing to do. Phil deserved a better future, without him. At least with as much distance as their bond permitted.

"Too bad," Phil sounded a bit angry. "You're stuck with me if you want to or not. I will always love you, you alone. I will follow you and protect you from your worst enemy."

"Who might that be?"

"Yourself." No one was more dangerous for Clint than Clint himself. His sense of self-worth died with his brother and Phil had any intention to resurrect the lost part of his fiancé's soul.

"I love you Clint, get used to it because it's permanent."

Clint wanted so much to continue their relationship but he felt like he didn't deserve Phil's love and trust. "I'll try," he finally said. That was all he could offer right now.

"Good," Phil's expression relaxed. "Can you stand up?"

The archer nodded and walked back to bed, "Sorry for shoving you. That must have hurt."

"It did but I prefer pain over cleaning up the content of your stomach," Phil joked, coaxing the hint of a smile out of his Hawk.

Thirty minutes later Natasha burst through the door, holding two begs in her hands.

"Here you are," she nagged. "We were looking for you for ages."

"Hey Nat," he rolled around to look at her. snuggling a little closer to Phil.

Phil sat on the bed, back resting against the headboard while he read the newspaper to Clint.

"And you," she pointed angrily at her handler after she dropped the bags. "How did you escape from medical?"

Phil groaned and Clint realized for the first time that Phil shouldn't be here, next to him.

"I have my ways."

"You broke out of medical?" Clint asked in disbelief.

"Uhm, no," Phil knew he would never live this one down.

"Agent Coulson broke a rule," the archer blinked. "Who'd thought that."

Phil liked the hint of humor in his lover's voice and decided it was worth the black spot in his reputation.

He would learn at a later date that the incident made him even more bad-ass in the eyes of the junior agents. He would never get rid of the rumor that he stabbed a doctor with his cannula and chained his nurse with the infusion tube before he walked out of there armed with a paperclip he stole from the poor doctor.

The rumor had Clint and Natasha written all over.

"Luckily I brought your pain meds and the message from Nick that he will send you to Siberia _in case you pull one of your god damn stitches_."

"He wouldn't," Phil raised a brow. "He needs me too much."

"True, you're too valuable," she agreed. No one could replace Coulson.

"I need the first aid kit," Phil put the newspaper down.

"You need rest," she swatted his hand away. "I stitch him up."

"God help me," Clint snuggled even closer to his handler.

"You can call me Phil," Phil said it in such a dry way that Clint couldn't suppress a soft chuckle.

Phil directed a broad and proud smile at Natasha. Happy for a sign that his beloved Hawk was still in there somewhere beneath all the pain and guilt.

She gave him a fond smile in return before she approached her partner in crime.

It pained her to stitch him up and feel him squirm beneath her but it had to be done.

Phil held his archer's hand during the ordeal, whispering sweet nothings to sooth his uneasiness.


	20. Some time apart

Okay, a short chapter again but I thought I give you one more update before I go to work today. I don't want to go, sigh. Three days is by far too long, I really start to hate my life again.

I hope you'll enjoy it :)

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

After one week holed up in the shabby motel they had to return to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Clint felt better and Fury scheduled many psych appointments in his young friends name. The archer wasn't happy with it but he got no say in it.

He couldn't deny that he felt better with each passing week.

Fury was generous enough to send him back into the field after one and a half months.

Clint's relationship with Phil on the other hand wasn't back to normal but his handler was working hard on it.

Phil's current mission was to get his archer back into his bed and in front of the marriage altar.

"The couch again?" Coulson took off his jacket and loosened his tie.

"It's comfy," the archer shrugged with one side of his shoulder. He lay on the couch under his favorite blanket, watching Supper Nanny.

"Come to bed with me," Phil sighed. "Just sleep, we don't have to do anything but please come to bed."

"I'm fine," they snuggled from time to time when Phil searched body contact or when Clint was so shaken he didn't care, but normally the archer tried to avoid more contact than necessary.

"We both know that's not true," Phil motioned with a hand for Clint to sit up. He took the seat on the couch next to his lover and forced him to lay back down with his head in Coulson's lap.

The agent didn't ask anymore if he could steal a kiss or touch him. He just did it if Clint liked it or not. It was time to take off the gloves and show Clint he meant what he said about not leaving him.

Clint's body tensed for a brief moment before he forced himself to relax. Phil meant safety and warmth so it wasn't that difficult to let go of his fear for a while.

It was difficult to understand why his boss wasn't angry with him. He shot him after all.

Coulson was Coulson, he took a shot and went on but Phil was Phil, he had feelings and a soul made of glass. Clint couldn't figure out the why. Why was it so easy for him to forgive? Why wasn't he mad? Why was he so god damn kind beneath his stoic mask?

"Stop thinking so much," Phil caressed Clint's arm. "It doesn't change anything."

Clint kept his mouth shut, grabbing the hand that caressed his arm. He clung to Phil's hand for dear life, placing their joined hands in front of his chest.

"It gets more and more difficult for me to handle the situation, Clint," he could feel Clint's fear. "I know what I want and I know what you wish for, so why can't we have it? Why can't we be what we both want to be? I love you, you love me. Tell me why?" Phil had enough of Clint's insecurities and self-hatred. Over one month of dancing around each other was tearing him apart.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't understand why it's so easy for you to forgive me."

"Because you saved my life. Damn Clint, you killed your brother for me. I have no right to bitch around because I have a whole in my shoulder while you put an arrow through your brother's heart."

"It's not that simple."

"No, it is that simple." Phil squeezed the hand he was holding, "Love can be very simple at times."

"Can I treat you to dinner tomorrow after work?" The archer asked after a very long pause.

Phil's heart skipped a beat, "I'd love to."

"It's a date then," Clint wasn't sure why he asked his lover out but it seemed right. Making Phil sad was something he hated to do.

Phil smiled, sending his love through the bond. "Come to bed, okay?" He was tired.

"Not tonight," the archer denied. Wincing at Phil's disappointment.

"Okay," Coulson tried to keep cool even though it hurt.

Clint placed a kiss on the palm of Phil's hand before he let go so his lover could get up and go to bed. "Good night."

"Good night."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Malaysia?" Phil groaned inwardly, he hated Nick sometimes or rather his lack of luck.

"Three days at the most, I think."

"A week then," Phil narrowed his eyes. Nick Fury's 'I think' was always a bad omen.

"It's not like you," the older man glared.

"Malaysia it is then," Coulson took the folder from the director's desk.

"Spill it."

Phil eyed his friend for a moment, there was nothing Fury didn't know about. "Clint asked me out. I was waiting for a chance since the day on the roof."

"Take him with you."

"Sir?" A sniper wasn't acquired for the mission. It was just a diplomatic reception he had to attend and a huge meeting afterwards. Talking, shaking hands, making friends and find potential allies.

"Take him with you," Nick repeated.

"Barton on a diplomatic mission? You know how that will end." He loved his archer but he was not meant to be a diplomat.

"Is that a no?"

"It is. I will spend all my time with politicians and he would stay at the hotel, alone. There is no difference if he comes along or not."

"You could have the nights."

"Maybe some time apart is a good idea." He needed time to sort out his emotions. Phil knew what he wanted and he knew he wanted Clint more than anything but he could use some time to come up with a new plan. His current plan to give Clint control over what happens next wasn't working out the way he wanted. Sure Clint asked him out but it felt like he asked him because he pitied Phil for being sad.

"Are you sure?" The director disliked seeing his best agent and friend so heartbroken.

"Yes."

Nick nodded, "Good luck on your mission."

"Thanks, sir."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Where are you going?" Clint leaned against the doorframe of Phil's bedroom, watching him pack.

"Malaysia," he didn't stop packing.

"Without us?"

"Yes. It's a diplomatic mission, we don't need you or Widow." Phil knew how this must have sounded to his archer.

"You're running."

"I'm not the one running," Coulson turned his head to look at Clint for a moment. "I'm done running, I'm too old for games."

"I'm not toying with you," Clint's expression darkened. How could Phil think that?

"I'm not saying you're toying with me, all I want to say is that I'm tired of waiting. We are so close but so far apart at the same time that I can't stand being around you at times." It wasn't what he intended to say but his mouth and heart seemed to have an opinion of their own.

Barton bit on his bottom lip, "See you in ..., whenever it is you come back."

Phil turned around to say something but Clint was already gone. "Shit."

:::::::::::::::::::::

"I hurt him Nat, again and again." Clint nursed his glass of Vodka. He sat on her couch while she got dressed.

"Then stop hurting him," she entered the living room, dressed in her pajama.

"Run and hide?" He said in a mocking tone.

"That would crush him," she said serious. "You can't ever leave him."

"I don't want to."

"Good," she gulped down the content of her glass.

"There's no place on earth I can hide anyway. Not since the bond." He considered dying a few times, to grant Phil the peace he deserved but every time he looked into Phil's gentle blue eyes he remembered what a bad idea that is. He wasn't alone anymore, he had people who cared for him. People who would be sad if he died.

"Let go of your fear and get a grip on yourself," she refilled her glass and eyed it for a moment before she placed it down to take the whole bottle.

"You sound like Phil," he sighed.

"Don't compare me to Coulson," she huffed. "He's scary."

"I thought you're the scary one." A small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth, "does that mean the famous Black Widow is scared of Agent Coulson?"

"Yes," she stated matter of fact.

"Oh," he looked surprised.

"He's smart, efficient, and the worst part is he's nice. I'm constantly scared to disappoint him. I have no idea how he does that." She loved the older man, he was like the father she never had.

"Didn't figure that one out either."

"Clint, why are you doing this, to yourself and Phil?"

"I can't forgive myself."

"He told you that it wasn't your fault, right?"

"He did."

"Phil does a lot of things but he never lies. You know that. When he says it's okay then it's okay." One more thing she loved about her handler.

"Every time I look at him I see blood and resignation in his eyes. He thought I'd shoot him. He truly thought I'd hurt him."

"Just because it was your brother you were fighting. That's the only reason. Phil knows how much you love Barney. I think it says a lot about Phil that he was understanding enough to forgive you before you even fired an arrow. He was ready to give his life to make you happy."

"I don't want that."

"Being happy?"

"He giving his life for what he thinks is best for me." Phil always nagged about his self-sacrificing streak but he wasn't better at all.

"Talk to him," she leaned against him. "He will listen."

"I don't know what to say." That was a big part of his problem. "He's angry at me and he has every right to. He has every right to accuse me of toying with him. I'm a big child, Nat."

"You are but we love you that way."

"I have no idea why but I'm glad." He closed his eyes to listen to their bond. Phil was angry and stressed. He wasn't a fan of flying. Clint took a deep breath, bringing his feelings in order before he tried to offer some comfort. He owed him that.

Phil worked through the file Nick had given him but his mind wandered back to his last talk with Clint no matter how hard he tried to concentrate.

A huge wave of comfort took him by surprise, but made him smile.

Clint was offering his help to calm him down even though they fought barely four hours ago.

His archer could be adorable when he wanted to be and little things like this reminded him why exactly he loved the young man so much.

'Pick me up after the job is done. Tell you when. Love P.' Coulson sent a text, hoping he didn't read the signs wrong.

'I'm sorry too, be safe. Love C.'

Phil's smile widened while he gazed fondly down at his phone.


	21. Coming home

Malaysia was boring, he had to spend all day in an overheated conference room and there was not a single person he liked, or could tolerate after hours.

Phil spent his nights alone in his room, his only companion was the big flat screen T.V.

It was so silent without his favorite troublemaker that his T.V. was practically running all night to drown out the deafening silence.

He missed Clint's soft chatter, his breathing next to him and he even missed his temper tantrums.

The Agent jerked as his phone rang next to him, "Coulson?"

"Hey," Clint said gently. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Phil felt his loneliness fade until it disappeared.

"Doesn't feel that way." His archer sounded insecure.

"I'm fine, really," Coulson closed his eyes and smiled.

"Something is wrong," Clint wasn't sure how to approach the subject.

"I'm bored, and I miss you." There was silence on the other end, Phil rubbed his forehead, _not again._

"Don't be annoyed, please." Clint was just struggling for words. He didn't want to fuck up again.

"Why do you call?" Phil asked harsher than he intended to.

"Good night Phil," Clint said gently before he hung up.

"Clint?" Phil eyed his phone in surprise. "Stupid, Phil, stupid."

He dialed Clint's number but it wasn't Barton who picked up.

"Natasha?"

"Sir, we can't talk right now."

"Why not? He called a minute ago."

"The mark is approaching, we have to move. Call you later, sir. Oh and sir?! He's worried that's the reason he called," she said before she ended the call.

"Of course he's worried," Phil muttered. "He's always worried whenever I feel unwell."

Coulson switched off the light and lay down. He turned off the T.V. for the first time since he checked into his room. The noise distracted him from listening to the bond.

Clint was high on adrenalin, agitated and his senses were sharp. Phil knew exactly what Clint was doing, he was watching his target, seizing an opportunity. _Calm_, Phil thought, _he's drawing his arrow,..., letting it fly. _

Coulson sat up like a flash, eyes wide and breath heavy. He placed a hand above his heart, _surprise and pain, that's not alright._

"The mission went south," Phil searched his phone, dialing Nick's number.

Clint's emotions got more and more frantic.

"What happened?"

Nick wasn't surprised to hear his agent's voice, before he even got a chance to say hello. "I call you once the shit is over," Fury made it sound like an order.

"Yes, sir." Phil swallowed hard, sometimes he hated being a model agent.

He paced up and down his room, not able to sleep. He couldn't sleep that night.

His lover's feelings were fucked up, changing from anger to fear and then back to anger, mixed with annoyance and pain.

Phil had a hard time the next morning to keep his cool demeanor upright and attend the meeting. He almost didn't recognize his own reflection in the mirror that morning.

He was pale, dark circles under his eyes and worry deeply attached to his face.

"Are you alright?" A young woman took a seat next to him without asking. He hoped to spend his lunch break alone with his thoughts.

She was a the secretary of a diplomat from a country he couldn't remember. She was slender and handsome, with dark hair and pretty brown eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine." He lied, giving a damn if the lie was obvious or not.

"I don't think so," she smiled gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it's private." He continued to poke his food.

"Trouble with your wife?" She liked him and was fishing for information.

"Something like that," he was too busy worrying about Clint that he didn't realize that she was flirting with him.

"We could go out for a drink tonight and forget about the things that bother us."

"I just need a good night's sleep," he was still waiting for Nick's call.

"I could come over and keep you company."

Phil gave her a funny look, "I-,..." his phone buzzed. "Coulson?"

All the lines of worry on his handsome face faded at once, "How are you?"

"Nothing serious but Nat broke her arm."

Phil sighed with relief, "Where are you?"

"Medial," he said barely audible.

"Medical? You said it wasn't serious!"

"It isn't, the keep me to make sure I'm okay."

"Be honest with me," Phil's tone softened.

"A mild concussion. A goon hit me over the head while I checked Nat for injuries."

"That's all?"

"I'm fine, sir."

Phil couldn't figure out the meaning behind the 'sir'. Was it his usual endearment or did they make one step back again? "Okay," the agent nodded to himself.

"Are you okay?" The woman put a hand on top of Phil's hand, squeezing it gently.

Phil had forgotten she was still there. He winced inwardly for the sense of shame he was feeling while she touched him.

"Phil," Clint's voice was so vulnerable it made Phil feel very unwell, "who is she?"

"She's the secretary of a diplomat, we met during lunch."

"Is that all?" Clint was scared that Phil decided to throw him away.

"Yes, love. That's all. Sorry about that," he was referring to the bond, "You know how oblivious I can be." He sent his love to Clint to destroy his fears of being replaced.

"I know," there was amusement in Clint's voice this time. "She could probably perform a lap-dance and you wouldn't notice."

"I'm not **that** oblivious."

She stared at Phil, she wasn't used to getting ignored. It was a big surprise.

"I put an arrow through her favorite pair of pumps should she try something funny."

"I can defend my own honor." Phil sighed dramatically, "stop laughing."

"Sorry, sir." Now the endearment was clearly audible.

"Love you too. Get some rest okay? And leave them be. Don't play dumb, I will hear about your pranks on our medical stuff once I'm home."

"Good night Phil. I love you."

"I have a few hours left before I can call it a day but I think I'll sleep well. I'm coming home soon, okay?"

"Okay," he missed his handler deeply.

Phil ended the call, staring at his phone for a long moment before he dug into his food with glee. _That went well. _

"Your wife?" She glared daggers at him.  
"Fiancé. He got hurt at work today." He gave her more information than necessary just to see the expression on her face at the word 'he'. Coulson was in a playful mood.

"He? Really?" Her eyes went wide, "how does he look like?" She put her elbows on the table and rested her head on her head on her hands, truly interested in Coulson's private life. Jealousy forgotten.

Phil frowned.

"Come on, I don't meet really hot gay guys every day." She beamed, "Is he as hot as you are?"

He blushed, "He's younger by nine years, not too tall, blue eyes, blond and broad. He's by far prettier than I am."

Phil disliked her grin, it wasn't dangerous but downright naughty.

"I love gay romances."

Phil cringed, _great now she'll write a story about us or something. Clint will never let me live that down. He'll have field day with it._

"I envy you," her expression changed.

"Why?"

"You seem happy and he way your eyes light up when you talk about him is awesome. I want that too."

"You'll find the right one but I don't think that's the right place." He spread his arms to emphasize his words.

"Where did you meet him?"

"I'm his boss."

"You're his boss? Does that work?"

"Yes, we are able to separate private from work."

"My boss cheats on his wife," she whispered. "He's not a good guy."

"Look somewhere else. Is it necessary that he's the high-ranking one in your relationship?"

She looked thoughtful, "No, I can be higher in rank. But in the end it doesn't matter at all, right?"

"No, it doesn't. You have to be equals at home."

"I was poor when I was a kid. I worked hard to be where I am. I'm scared to lose that."

"Does all your money make you happy?"

"What?" She looked surprised at the question.

"Your money doesn't love you."

"It's important thought."

"It is, it keeps you fed and warm but humans need more than that. Don't get me wrong I love my job and the paycheck but I'm ready to give it all up for him because he keeps me warm from within." He placed a hand above his heart, "you have to choose what's more important. Money or love, and in the end you might get both."

"Did you get both?" She asked even though she already had an answer to her question.

"Money was never my top priority. Keeping people safe is, and yes I have both of it. I'm happy the way it is."

"I'm glad to hear that," she smiled again. The man was strange in her opinion. He wormed his way into her soul within half an hour just because he is who he is. Honest and modest in a loveable way. she was sure he ruled his life and not the other way around.

Maybe, she too, could form her own destiny instead of waiting for life to push her in the right direction. She sighed deeply, "tell me about him. What makes him the one, your Mr. Right?"

Phil's eyes lit up again as he began to talk about his archer.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You lied to him," Natasha glared at him. "Just a mild concussion? Come on, the concussion is your smallest problem right now."

"He's thousands of miles away. I don't want him to worry about me more than necessary while he handles all the paper-pushers."

"He'll find out about it once he returns," she pointed out.

"I know he will but he will be home by then," he wanted nothing more than to have his handler back.

She stared at her cast for a moment, "He will be angry."

"I'll deal with it when the time comes," he shifted slightly. A bullet took a chunk out of his side the moment he reached Nat's still form. For a frightening moment he thought she was dead. Losing Natasha was a horrible thought.

"How is he?"

"Oblivious like always. Someone flirted with him and he didn't notice at first." Phil could be adorable, Clint knew without the help of their bond he would have jumped on the next plane to Malaysia just to strangle that girl. Dumping her corpse in the next river, never to be found.

"Because you're constantly in his mind 24/7 and I don't mean the bond." Her friends shared something special, something she wanted to experience herself so desperately.

Clint blushed, "you think so?"

"Of course," she gave him a you-know-the-answer look. "He adores you so much it's almost sickening. I think Deuce's attack is the best proof. The nurses tiptoed around him as he would break at the slightest vibration. Even the doctors let him be, not ordering to rest and no one in his right mind dared to force him to leave."

"He left to see the investigators," _to risk his job, his dreams and life's work._

"I watched parts of the security tape," she smirked. "He was pissed and knew exactly what he wanted. He didn't do it what he did because he was too tired or agitated to think straight. He did it because you're his top priority. To tell the truth, I'm jealous."

"We will find someone for you too," Clint promised. "You'll see one day he just, ..., appears out of nowhere turning your life upside down."

"Was it that way with Phil?" She heard from Phil about it but never from Clint. It seemed as if he was scared that once he talked about it his current life would turn into a dream and shatter.

"He dragged one of his agents to safety. I shot a gunman who aimed at Phil. I got shot too and suddenly,..., he was there. Hovering over me, without knowing who I am. I was a random guy who got caught in the crossfire, but he cared. That was the first time in my fucking life that someone cared. It was the first time I felt like I was worth something. He makes me feel that way every day since we officially met." Clint smiled at the memory, "and then you entered my life. Being the sister I never had. Being the sibling I always wished for. You make my world even more whole. More complete. You're family, the only family I would describe as such. You, Nick and Phil are my world. I can't and don't want to imagine my life without you."

"You're my world, too." She made it sound like a statement. She hated talking about her feelings. She wasn't used to the fact that someone cared about what she was feeling. No that wasn't true not anymore. Clint cared and so did Phil.

She wasn't a nobody, one of many nameless spies. She was Natasha Romanoff, friend of Clint Barton and protégé of Phil Coulson.

"I know," Clint directed a gentle look at her.

"So, how long do they keep you?" She changed the topic.

"Two days," he begged Nick not to tell Phil anything about his brush with death.

"How long will he be away?"

"I don't know, he'll give me a call."

She nodded, "Time for you to get some rest. The nurse should be on her way to give you more of the good stuff."

He couldn't hide anything from her, he'd thought he hid his sleepiness well but obviously not, "See you later, Nat."

"See you later," she kissed his forehead before she left to get some rest herself. It had been a very long day.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Phil had to put up with the paper-pushers for three more days before he could sent the message they longed for.

He waited for his luggage, tapping impatiently with one foot. He wanted nothing more than to enclose Clint in his arms.

Phil almost let out a sigh of relief the moment he spotted his luggage.

He hurried into the main hall, not noticing that Clint was creeping up on him shortly after he entered the huge hall.

"Hey handsome, need a ride?" Clint asked cheerfully.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I'm waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up, but it seems he couldn't make it."

"Such a shame," Clint chuckled. "I missed you."

"Missed you too," Phil took Clint into his arms, signaling that they were alright. Fight forgotten.

"Let's go home," Clint took Phil's hand and led him to the car.

The ride was silent but not uncomfortable. Phil dozed off shortly after they left the parking lot.

"Wake up. We're home," Clint shook him gently.

"I'm so darn tired, I hate sitting on my ass for a week."

"It's still pretty," the archer smirked. Staring shamelessly at his lover's butt.

"What?"

"Your ass," Clint clarified. "You must be really tired."

"I am," Phil unlocked the door of the apartment. "Smells nice."

"I hope so," Clint took Phil's bag and carried it into their bedroom.

Phil got rid of his jacket and tie on the way to the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"Go, take a shower while I take care of our dinner."

Phil nodded and hurried to the bathroom, taking a long and hot shower. Feeling his muscles relax under the hot spray.

"Are you alright?" Clint knocked after a while.

"I'm fine, give me five more minutes."

"Take all the time you need," he returned to the kitchen. Phil was true to his word and showed up five minutes later.

He stopped in the doorway, soaking in the scene in front of him. The table was set, the room illuminated by candles, his best tablecloth graced the table while homemade food covered the fine fabric.

"Sit down," Clint said with a hint of insecurity.

"It's beautiful. What have I done to deserve this?"

"You exist." Was all Clint had to say on the matter.

Phil put down the tableware he picked up seconds ago, sighing deeply. The love in his chest was almost suffocating. It felt strange to be loved that way. To be as important as the air to breath. To make someone so happy he was on seventh heaven. To have the power to destroy a life with his bare hands. "So we're good?"

"Yeah, we're good." Clint smiled, sitting down. "You say what I did is okay, so it is okay."

"You don't say it to make me feel better, right?" Phil eyed him carefully.

"No, I say it because I can trust you to never lie to me." Natasha was right, Clint had nothing to be sorry about. Aside from his brother's death.

"You talked to Natasha," it was alright that Clint sought help by his best friend. They all had issues and needed friends at times.

"I did. She made me realize how stupid I behaved. I'm sorry Phil."

"You had every right to feel that way. I mean you killed your brother, you hurt me. I think I was too harsh with you. We both made mistakes and the combination of our coping styles led us to our fall-out." It wasn't Clint's fault alone neither was it Phil's. Both of them made decisions they regretted, they said things they shouldn't have said at all but what was done was done. There was no going back.

"That's why I love you," Clint said fondly while he snatched Phil's plate to fill it with food. "The way you think is efficient and plausible."

"Thank you," Phil took the plate Clint offered. It smelled and looked absolutely delicious, Clint was a great cook. "I have a lot of experience." He started to eat, "but I still have a lot to learn." Phil added after he swallowed a tender piece of beef steak.

"We both have a lot to learn about relationships," Clint ate vegetables, fried in butter.

"We do. And I'm ready to learn for the rest of my life if I have to."

"Me too."

"Good," Phil brushed his leg against Clint's under the table to feel closer to his lover.

They ate in silence for a long time, communicating via their bond and body language.

Clint ushered Phil out of the kitchen after dinner. His lover needed sleep more than anything right now and it gave Clint more time to hide his wound.

After washing the dishes and putting away leftovers he joined Phil in the bedroom.

To his surprise Phil didn't sleep, he sat with his back against the headboard and seemed to wait for him.

"Can't you sleep?" Clint took of his jeans before he walked into the bathroom, which was connected to the bedroom, to brush his teeth.

"Something is bothering you again, and I'm not as tired as I was before our dinner." Phil said louder to drown out the running water.

"You need your sleep, you're so cranky in the morning without at least six hours of sleep." The archer spit out the toothpaste and washed his face to get rid of the sweaty feeling. He wasn't cleared for duty yet and didn't feel well but he put up a great act in front of Phil. It surprised him that he fooled the older man for so long but the time to confess had come. Phil would be more angry if he had to find out on his own, a confession would hurt him less. At least Clint hoped that would be the case.

"Clint?" Phil switched off the light and settled down, waiting for his beloved archer.

"Phil, I have to tell you something. It has nothing to do with our dinner, I meant every word I said and it's independent from my decision to cook for you, just so you know," Clint sat down on the edge of their bed.

"What happened?" Phil was alert and ready to switch into his agent mode if he had to.

"I wasn't one hundred percent honest when I said I had a mild concussion." He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Phil to shout or go all agent on him.

"You didn't have a concussion?" He tried to keep calm, he could feel how hard it was for Clint to confess.

"I did that was not a lie."

Phil crawled closer to Clint and put his arms around him, pulling him close to his chest. "Tell me."

"I want you to know that I thought it best not to worry you while you where thousands of miles away from home. I thought it might border motional torture if I tell you all."

Phil shifted his position and pushed Clint down onto the mattress, straddling him. "Do I have to search for more injuries?"

He could see Clint nod in the dim moonlight that shone through the curtains. Phil switched on the light, looking deep into Clint's eyes. The hint of fear in them felt like a step backwards in their relationship but his mind knew better. It was Clint's upbringing and experiences that brought the look to his eyes every time his archer feared a quarrel.

Phil kissed Clint lovingly, he wasn't angry. A little disappointed maybe but not angry. He understood Clint's reasoning and had nothing to say against it.

He let his hands roam over Clint's body, searching for bandages or the likes. His hand stopped over Clint's right side. Phil lifted up his lover's shirt to reveal a large gauze bandage, "What happened?"

"It's a flesh wound, a bullet hit me while I tried to help Natasha. I was a little unfocused because, for a moment, I thought she was dead. I got hit over the head because Natasha and the wound slowed me down."

"More injuries I should know about?" Phil tried to picture the cluster-fuck of a mission. Seeing Clint and Black Widow bleeding out in front of his mind eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

"I said the truth about her breaking her arm, it's the only injury she has apart from a bruise on the left side of her collarbone." Clint felt a huge sense of relief which was just partly his own. "I'm glad you're not angry with me."

"Just don't do it again, okay?"

"I promise," Clint put his arms around Phil, pulling him into a heated kiss. Phil's hands on his skin made him horny.

"You should rest," Phil panted heavily after they parted.

"I want you," Clint licked the corner of Phil's mouth, wandering to his neck, and from there down to his shoulder.

"Leave the work to me," Phil felt himself harden. He loved Clint's hot breath against his skin.

Coulson kissed his archer again while his hand wandered down to his groin. He smiled into the kiss as he realized that Clint was already hard, aching for him.

Phil kissed and licked his way down Clint's heated body, "tell me what you want."

Clint's back arched as Phil took him into his mouth, sucking hard while his tongue caressed his shaft and glans. "I want you, Phil, sir."

Phil released his lover's cock to search for the lube in the nightstand. "Are you really up to it?" He wasn't sure he could stop now but for Clint's sake he had to make sure it was alright to go all the way that night.

"Always," Barton smirked, wiggling his hip. "Come on, sir." He begged.

Phil prepared his lover slowly and with care, playing rough was not an option. Not as long Clint had stitches in him. The docs would kill him for reopening Barton's stitches during sex.

"I love you," Phil captured Clint's swollen lips while he pushed himself inside his young fiancé. Clint's moan was so sweet he could almost taste his longing.

"I'm ready," Clint panted, "you can move."

Phil did as he was told and it didn't take long for them to find release. Their orgasm was hard and Clint felt high like a kite for a moment, while Phil fought not to pass out from exhaustion and satisfaction.

Clint let out a soft gasp as Phil pulled out, "I get a towel." The archer got up and returned with a wet towel, cleaning his older lover so he could go to sleep without taking a shower immediately. Phil slung himself around Clint after he returned to bed, "I love you."

Clint smiled, they were still naked and hearing his lover say that while they cuddled made him feel warm all over.

Phil took Clint's hand into his own and placed it on the archer's belly before he let go for a moment, his head rested on the archer's chest and he couldn't see his lover's reaction but he could hear his heart beat and breathing. Phil had used the chance to get the wedding band while Clint got a towel. He rolled the ring between his thumb and index finger, in front of Clint's face before he interpreted the lack of resistance as a 'yes'. He put the ring on its rightful place without Clint's objection. To tell the truth he didn't react at all, he just stared at the ring, following every move with his eyes. His breath hitched barely noticeable the moment the ring was where it belong.

"Next month?" Phil asked hopefully. They lost enough time due to their issues and stupidity. It was time to act, without planning ten steps ahead.

"Can I ask Natasha to be my witness?" Clint continued to stare at the ring. It was final. He was officially Coulson's. Not that it was a bad thing, it just made it more real.

"If I can have Nick," Phil smiled lovingly. Placing a kiss on Clint's chest.

"Do you have family you want to invite?"

"My aunt is too sick to attend, I'm surprised she made it this far." He waiting for the dreaded call for two years now. The doctor telling him that she passed on. "I could ask my sister."

"You have a sister?" Clint's gasped in surprise.

"She grew up with my uncle. He's very rich and not modest at all. She likes money and her upper-class world. I love my aunt, I chose love above money."

"Sounds kind of sad. When was the last time you saw her?"

"I don't know, she wrote a card six years ago to tell me about my niece. I think I have seen her in person around ten years ago. At our cousin's funeral. He died in an accident. He was drunk and drove his car right into tree."

"That's awful," Clint felt sad on Phil's behalf.

"I met him once, he was a stranger even though he was part of the family. I wasn't sad. Sure, I was sad that one more life had been wasted but I wasn't emotionally devastated or something.

"We can invite her and send your aunt a video or life-streaming," Clint mused. There must be a way that his aunt could participate even though she was too sick to travel.

"We will see," Phil tilted his head back and kissed Clint's temple. "We should sleep. We can continue our talk after we slept."

"I like your plan," Clint yawned. "I'm looking forward to our marriage," he added sleepily.

"Me, too." Phil watched his lover fall asleep before he congratulated himself for reaching his goals. Clint was back in his bed and they would marry soon. His life was back to normal and he loved every minute of it.


	22. Destiny strikes

Clint and Phil had a long talk about their wedding.

The guest list was so short it was almost sad, there wasn't any family left aside from Phil's sister and sick aunt. Phil wasn't sure if he wanted his sister at his wedding or not. Even if he wanted he wasn't sure she would come. Clint tried to convince him to give it a try. Family was precious and so easily lost. Barney was the best example.

Phil agreed after thinking it through for two days. One week later they sent their invitations. Fury, Hill, Sitwell, Gordon, Natasha, Phil's sister and aunt. Nick made sure his aunt could join them, ordering the medical staff to make preparations for the her journey to NYC, her care and her travel back home.

They all said yes immediately, except Phil's sister. She wrote him a letter, accusing him of neglecting the good side of the family. She was dragging his choice of profession through the dirt. He could have become rich and famous but instead he chose to be a no one. The fact that Phil intended to marry a man was not helpful either. Phil was a low-life in her eyes and Clint, how did she put it?, 'white trash'.

She had obviously paid a detective agency to snoop around their past.

Phil had been angry, her words and low opinion about himself hurt but what angered him most was the way she talked about Clint. She had no idea what a good person the archer was. Living Clint's life and turning out the way he did was remarkable, coming so far in life without perspective bordered on a miracle.

"Hey, Phil," Clint jumped out of the vent. "What are you doing?"

The older man took his spare suit out of his locker, he always had two in his locker just in case. "Nick sends me to Mexico," he stated.

Clint could feel how unhappy Phil was with the order, "Without me?"

"Without you."

"Target?" Clint knew the answer the moment he asked, Phil got that look he always got whenever he wasn't permitted to talk about it. "Okay. I got it."

A tiny smile appeared on Phil's face.

"How long?"

"Two days, four maximum," he had to track down a drug dealer. Phil was supposed to pretend to be a businessman, searching for a new partner to extend his business. "I'm home before you notice I'm gone."

"That's impossible. I always notice when you're gone," Clint pouted. "We work and live together after all."

Phil knew that was true, Clint was always hyperaware about heat changes and changes in dynamic. It was almost impossible to sneak out of bed without Clint noticing it, and he sensed mood changes from a mile away. Phil wondered sometimes if Clint knew what Phil felt before he knew it himself. Phil guessed it could be a self-defense mechanism Clint developed in his youth, to protect himself from further harm.

"I have to go," Phil closed his beg and kissed Clint before he headed for the Quinjet.

Clint sighed, watching his soon to be husband leave. Being apart felt wrong, very wrong.

Phil hadn't even reached the jet yet but Clint felt a sense of loss. He got used to the warm body next to him, the strong arms around him. the snippy remarks and darks sense of humor delivered in a dry way. The glee in his eyes whenever he stumbled upon Captain America cards. And the annoyed glare he used to state, 'Are you for real?'.

It hit Clint how much he depended on the man. The older man protected him from everything, harm, loneliness, self-hatred, suicidal behavior, verbal abuse, the medical staff, himself.

The list was endless and he could go on and on and on about the things Phil did for him.

Clint decided that brooding would bring him nowhere and so he spent a few hours at the firing range to clear his head.

The mission lasted three days and Phil was in a hurry to go home. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Clint was in pain, in a lot of pain.

Not physically but mentally.

He asked the first agent he could find back at HQ where agent Barton was. Scaring the kid half to death with his demanding glare.

He told Phil that he last saw him lurking around Coulson's office. So Phil went to his office but Clint wasn't around. His secretary told him that the archer went home hours ago.

The drive home was long and suffocating, he let out a sigh of relief the moment he laid eyes on their apartment complex.

Phil burst through the door, looking for his beloved archer. Clint sat on their bed with tears in his eyes.

Coulson demanded an explanation, almost begging for an answer.

"Your aunt died last night," he couldn't look in the eye, handing him the piece of paper he clutched in his hands.

It was a telegram, informing P. Coulson about the demise of his aunt. Phil stared at it in disbelief, hands shaking.

"I'm sorry," Clint took Phil into his arms. "I'm so sorry."

The hug made him realize that it was real. The piece of paper in his hand was real. The pain Clint felt on his behalf was real. The death of his aunt was real.

He clutched Clint's shirt holding on for dear life while he wept and wept and wept until he had no tears left to shed.

Clint held Phil protectively in his arms, comforting him with help of their bond because the archer knew that words were meaningless. Nothing could make Phil feel better, no words, not the bond nor his presence. All he could do was ease some of the pain.

Only time could let the pain fade and maybe one day Phil would be able to make his peace. Clint guided Phil onto the bed, stripping him down to the boxers before he joined him, pulling his lover half on top of him. "I called Nick, you get the week off. Or more should you need it," Clint whispered, reaching out for the alarm clock to turn it off.

He could feel Phil nod against his chest, and a wave of gratefulness sneaked into the bond.

Clint held his fiancé tight until they fell asleep.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Instead of making last preparations for their wedding they had to organize the funeral for Phil's beloved aunt. After the first shock subsided Phil came to the conclusion, how harsh it might sound, that it was for the better that she died. She was sick for so long and suffered a great deal. The pain and being unable to move must have been agony.

She was always on her feet before she fell ill, doing this and that. She only sat still when Phil was around and in need of comfort. He loved her very much but knew as well that you had to set loved ones free at times, especially when living became a burden. She was good at pretending and every time he paid her a visit she greeted him with a smile, hiding the pain she was in. But Phil knew her too well to fall for the act.

They talked about their life together, reliving good memories and she was very interested in the kid Phil had fallen for. She knew anything about Clint.

Clint guessed that she was aware of the fact that Phil was in good hands and was finally ready to let go. His archer might be right about that but it hurt nonetheless. She raised him, loved him and formed the person he had become.

"Ready?" Clint knew it was a stupid question, Phil would never be ready to bury his aunt but what else could he say?

"No, but I have to." Phil checked his tie and tugged nervously on his suit. "Thanks for coming with me."

The archer put his shades in place before he took Phil's shaky hand, "We're in it together."

He led his lover out of the hotel and into their car. "Here," he gave Phil his shades before he started the engine. "You forgot the on the nightstand and I think you need them."

They gave Phil something to hide behind, Clint had been glad during Barney's funeral to have them. He could hide his pain and bloodshot eyes behind the dark glasses. Only Phil was able to sense his agony and that was more than enough for his lover to bear.

Clint was determined to do the same for his fiancé. he would listen to whatever he had to say, he would take the pain and offer comfort as much and long as he needed to. He wouldn't let Phil cope on his own, they shared their life. For better or worse.

"Thank you," it was filled with so much meaning that Clint had to stop at the next parking lot.

He lowered his shades a little before therewith Phil could see the honesty in his eyes, "I will stand by your side come whatever may. Happiness, sadness, pain or death. I'll be there, holding your hand, guiding us through it all."

"I know you will," a honest smile appeared on Phil's too pale face. It was small but a beginning.

Clint nodded and pecked Phil on the cheek before he drove off the parking lot. Heading for the cemetery.

A lot of people were there to say their last goodbye. Old friends and family members.

"Phil," a tall woman with dark hair greeted coldly.

It was obvious that she was Phil's sister.

"Judith," Phil greeted equally coldly. "That's Clint."

She looked at the archer and her eyes widened for a moment. The younger man was pretty and well build. He was too pretty to be engaged to someone like Phil. Her brother was simple and boring.

"He isn't that rich," she finally stated. The black suit and the black shirt suited him well she could imagine how he used his good looks and charm on her brother to squeeze the money out of him.

"I'm not interested in money ma'am. there are more important things in life than money." Clint stated matter of factly, playing it cool for Phil's sake.

"Sure," she huffed in disbelief. "And you love him because he's such a sweetheart."

"In fact that's exactly the reason," Clint replied. "I do love him the way he is and now excuse us. A funeral is not the right place to pick up a fight. Let him grieve in peace." He placed a strong hand on Phil's back and pushed him gently but with a hint of firmness in direction of the grave. He could feel his lover tremble beneath his hand, "You can do this."

Phil took a deep breath and sent a big thank you through the bond.

Clint rubbed his thumb over Phil's back, his handler had guided him through Barney's funeral the same way. A strong hand glued to his back and comfort within the bond. Phil and Clint had been the only attendees at his brother's funeral.

All barney had left in the world was Clint who cried while they lowered the coffin into the ground. The archer knew that Phil was the only reason that he didn't bolt the moment the priest began his speech. He felt like breaking but Coulson held him together during his time of grief. Now was his turn to pay him back and to care for him. Phil needed his support and he would give Phil everything he needed, all he had belonged to his lover. He would be strong for both of them.

They stopped next to a tall man, bald with pretty green eyes.

"Phil," he offered Coulson his hand.

"Michael," the older agent shook his hand.

"How are you? Aside from here," the tall man's voice broke. He seemed to love his aunt.

"I was fine until she died," Phil's voice was controlled, thanks to all the practice he had as an agent.

"Who is he?" Michael nodded at Clint.

"My fiancé," he wasn't ashamed of their relationship and would never be.

Phil's lack of shame gave Clint confidence. "I'm Clint, nice to meet you."

"You finally found your man?"

Phil was able to smile a little, "I did."

"I'm glad. She was worried you know. Something made her happy the last few days she lived. It might be because she knew you weren't alone. She did know right?"

"We invited her to our wedding," Phil swallowed hard. "But she died..." He couldn't finish his sentence.

"Oh," his cousin understood what Phil couldn't say out loud. "When is the wedding?"

"Next week but we decided to delay it. We haven't set a new date yet," Clint answered for Phil.

"I understand," Michael gave Phil a gentle smile. "I don't know her as well as you do but I think she was waiting for that moment so she could pass on in peace. I'm a believer Phil and I'm sure she'll watch over you, smiling down at you during your wedding. Holding her protective hand over you."

"Thank you Michael," Phil patted his cousin's arm. "Greet Mary and the kids okay?"

"Sure," his wife decided to stay at home. Their kids were too small to understand what was going on.

Clint nodded his goodbye and urged Phil on the other side of the grave as he saw Phil's sister approach. "He seems nice," Clint leaned closer to whisper in Phil's ear.

"He is. He took care of her for me. He's a lawyer, family law and stuff like that. They weren't so close but he liked her best. I think he's the only person in the Coulson family who resembles my aunt and I."

"That makes him even more likeable," Clint's hand was still on Phil's back and would remain there.

Phil took a deep breath, "They'll read her will afterwards, that's the real reason most of them attend. My sister, my uncle, cousins, friends."

"I didn't know," Clint observed the area, it was easy to figure out who was truly sad and who pretended to be. Phil, Michael and an elderly woman. Three of over twenty people cared for her. That was sad. Someone like her deserved an army of grieving loved ones. That no one cared about people like him, and Barney, he could understand but not this.

That wasn't was family was supposed to be, but what did he know?

"I don't like your train of thoughts."

"Sorry," Clint mumbled- he wasn't aware that he broadcasted his emotions.

"I can read it on your face," Phil said.

"Still sorry."

"Don't be," he leaned against his archer for support. "They're soulless leeches."

"I know it isn't comforting but you have a lot of people who will mourn you."

"You too," Phil knew Clint doubted his own worth. "I definitely would."

"I know," he kissed Phil's temple.

The priest's speech was long and heartbreaking, Clint had a hard time to take Phil's emotions, replacing them with something less painful.

Phil' soul was a mess by the time they lowered the coffin into the ground. Only his agent attitude held him upright.

They all gathered in a restaurant afterwards waiting for the notary to read the will.

"Michael Edward Coulson," the notary began. "You'll inherit her rosary and a third of her money," Michael took the rosary. Looking mournfully at it before he announced to donate the money to a charity project. He had enough money to support his own family.

"Rosemarie Jones, she leaves her jewelry to you and the tea set you like so much. She thanks you for being a great friend and wishes you a long and happy life." Rosemarie wiped her tears away, cradling the box which contained the tea set and jewelry like a child in her arms.

"Phillip J. Coulson, you inherit her summer house, the cabin in the woods and a third of her money, with the request to organize an awesome wedding and Honeymoon you'll never forget. She wants you to know that she loves you very much and wishes you all the best. You're the son she never had." Despite all the pain Phil felt some warmth in his heart. Her last wish honored him and gave him the knowledge that she approved of his choices.

"Clinton Francis Barton," the room fell silent. Clint's head shot up to look at the notary, fast enough to cause pain in his neck. Phil was just as surprised as he was.

"She leaves the rest of her money to you and her most precious treasure. Her beloved nephew Phil. She begs you to take care of him for her and to continue to love and treasure him. She thanks you for your good work at keeping her boy safe and wishes you long and happy life without any hardship."

"I swear," Clint found his voice. Squeezing Phil's hand.

"He's not part of the family," Judith glared at the archer.

"He's my fiancé. that makes him part of the family," Phil stated.

"I don't want the money. All I want is you," Clint said in a low tone so only Phil could hear him.

"You have me and I want you to take the money. We will find something to do with it," he put his arm around his lover, feeling the tension in his shoulders. "Don't pay them any attention. They don't understand and probably never will."

"Don't worry about me," Clint leaned closer into the embrace, accepting the closeness.

"He wants your money," his sister insisted. "You work for the state, he's probably waiting for you to get shot."

Couslon could feel how Clint's body went rigid.

"He saved my life on more than one occasion, if he wanted me dead I would be."

She was at a loss for words, "... he works with you?"

"He's my best agent, we work together for years."

"That's meaningless," her husband took her side.

"Does that look meaningless to you?" Phil opened the first few buttons of Clint's shirt, revealing the scar underneath.

His relatives started to whisper and gossip, with disgust in their eyes. The scar on his neck wasn't a pretty sight, especially the story that must be connected to such a wound.

Clint could feel a blush approach, wandering from his neck to the tips of his ears.

"What happened?" Michael looked at him with wide eyes.

"A knife," Phil deadpanned. "The chance that he dies for the agency before I do is pretty high."

"I won't let you die," Clint mumbled.

"I know," he pecked Clint's cheek. "Let's go home. My aunt wouldn't want this."

"You're still invited to attend out wedding," Clint bowed his head a little. "We will inform you about the new date."

"Dinner?" Clint glanced at Phil while he drove.

"I'm not hungry," he closed his eyes fighting against a headache.

"Home then," they stopped at the hotel to pick up their belongings before Clint drove home without a break. He provided Phil with water and cookies to keep him hydrated and prevent him from starving himself.

"Bed now," Clint opened the door to their apartment and pushed Phil into the direction of their bedroom. He waited patiently for Phil to settle down before he got ibuprofen and a bottle of water, "Take this."

Phil obeyed, he wasn't surprised Clint knew about his approaching migraine.

"Sleep," the archer ordered gently, stroking Phil's head. "Soup will be ready when you wake up." He kissed his handler's forehead.

Phil grabbed Clint's wrist the moment he pulled away and closed his eyes. Clint tugged lightly against Phil's hold but the agent's grip tightened.

The archer crawled over Phil, careful not to jostle the mattress too much and laid down next to his lover. He struggled find a comfortable position, because Phil still clung to his wrist his options were limited. So he ended up half on top of Phil, the older man let out a content sigh before Clint's warmth lulled him to sleep. Clint watched over his lover, he wasn't tired and used the chance to watch Coulson sleep. Counting the lines around his eyes, the rather new scar on his shoulder and the peaceful look on his face he only got when he was asleep. What surprised him was that Phil's hold on his wrist was even in his sleep strong and needy. There was no chance to free his wrist without force. But he wouldn't free himself even if he could, Phil needed this and Clint can't deny him anything.

"Can't you sleep? You drove for hours," the older agent mumbled sleepily. His headache was gone and he was aware of Clint's lack of sleep. The archer was tired but content, and a little worried on his behalf but that wasn't unusual.

"I like watching you sleep," the archer replied.

"You can watch me in the morning," Phil released Clint's wrist and wrapped his arms possessively around his Hawk. "Now sleep," there was a hint of amusement in Phil's tired voice.

Clint closed his eyes. "Yes sir," he enjoyed his lover's strong arms around him and the warmth of his body but in the end it was Phil's steady heartbeat that lulled him to sleep.


	23. Finally

Sorry it took me so long. I have written the chapter weeks ago. It was hand-written and I lacked the time (and was too lazy when I had the time) to write it _again_ in digital form. I decided to take my laptop with me when I go to work instead of a notebook. The kids we have at the moment don't steal. There was a time we had kids who would have tried to steal it.

I hope it isn't too bad. I wrote it during the night. I needed hours but it's finally done.

Thank you for all the reviews and favorites I've got.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Phil's recovery was slow and filled with sorrow but a few months after her death he was back to his old scary self.

Nick had granted him 4 weeks of personal leave, sadly Clint's request had been denied.

These 4 weeks had added more problems to Phil's already battered soul. Grieving and fearing for his lover's well being had slowed down his healing process.

Being at home, alone with his gloomy thoughts wore him down, mercifully, Clint was a worrywart so he stole some of his paperwork and smuggled it back home to distract him. The archer put the finished paperwork back onto Phil's desk.

They were sure Nick knew about it because the pile of papers increased day by day and the finished files vanished mysteriously.

Going back to work was almost a blessing and keeping an eye on Clint took a load off of his mind.

"When do you intent to proceed with your wedding?" Hill asked after a long meeting.

"I don't know. We haven't talked about it yet," Phil wasn't ready and Clint never pushed him. The archer was his lifeline during the last months. Taking all the shit he threw at him.

His dark moods, his angry outbursts and silent treatment. He took it all without reflecting his moods back at him. He gave and gave and gave, only getting pain in return.

Phil was sure he owed Clint one, no he knew he owed him one. Something special, something personal.

Nothing like an expensive vacation or dinner. It should be something that showed how much Clint meant to him. Phil had no doubt Clint knew how deep his feelings ran. But his aunt's death reminded him, again, how fragile life was.

How easily a human being could break. Turning to ashes, all that remained were memories.

Phil tended to think that they were immortal. They had so many brushes with death. They beat the odds on a regular basis but one day they'd run out of luck and one of them, or preferably both, would not come home.

Coulson chided himself for being so clingy but he needed more than their bond could provide. He needed more than feel their love inside his mind, he needed to have his archer around.

Sitting on the couch in his office.

Hiding in the vents.

Clint following him around wherever he went.

He never told Clint that but the archer seemed to know nonetheless. Clint spent by far more time with him than he usually did. He overheard an agent say that Clint was like a lost puppy. Obeying his master to gain his favor, or in Clint's case to keep what he had.

The agent found a great new occupation in Siberia shortly after.

"Don't wait too long," she patted his shoulder. "Life is too short, but whom I'm telling that."

Phil felt his heart constrict, "I'm not ready Maria."

"I understand and he does too." She gave him a rare smile, "He'll follow you everywhere. I have never seen a couple as devoted as you before. It's sickening, but kind of adorable."

"We're many things but adorable isn't one of them."

"Believe me; it is."

"Women," he muttered.

"You should find more male friends then," she grinned wickedly. Coulson was the perfect friend for a woman. Trained in martial arts, high moral, wicked sense of humor, heart of gold and gay.

"They fear me," Phil deadpanned.

"I know."

"You're the devil."

"No, I'm his queen."

Coulson grimaced, "TMI."

"Why, don't you want to know how he bends me over his…"

"One more word and I tase you."

She snapped her mouth shut because second director or not he would tase her. Justifying his act in front of the director in a way that would convince her lover that she deserved it.

"I'm wrong. I'm not the devil's queen. Clint is."

"I prefer the term the devil's right hand," Clint's voice startled her.

"How long…?"

"Since, don't wait too long," the archer smirked.

"No one is as silent as you guys. Is that a team thing or is stealth 101 the first thing you teach them?"

"A team thing," they said in unison.

She shuddered; finishing each other's sentences was one more scary skill of team Coulson she couldn't get used to. "8 a.m. Training ground. I think you posses some skills you should share."

"Of course, agent Hill. We will be there," Phil gave her a lopsided grin that gave her goose bumps.

"Don't break them," she warned.

"Who said anything about breaking?" Clint said out loud what was written on Phil's face.

_Scary_, she looked from Phil to Clint, "I want them in one piece afterwards. Mentally too."

"Yes, ma'am," again in unison.

She sighed deeply and left, shaking her head. "What have I done to deserve that?"

"Karma," they said. They knew that she hated it when they did that. They knew her too well.

"That was fun, sir."

"It's always fun to get under her skin," Phil agreed. "Dinner?"

"Sure, I'm starving."

Phil gave him an half hearted glare, "Skipped breakfast again?"

"You were already gone," Clint shrugged. "I wasn't hungry."

"What did I broadcast this time?" Phil felt guilty for Clint's discomfort. Lack of sleep and food had been part of Clint's suffering. Phil's heavy emotions didn't let him sleep at night and took away his healthy appetite.

"Just boredom," _and guilt, and fear, and melancholy_.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Clint smiled. "Boring meetings are nothing new."

Phil couldn't shake the feeling that Clint only told half of the truth but his lover was great at pretending. "I'm sorry for putting you through all this."

"Not your fault. It's a normal reaction."

"But we share the bond."

"You put up with all my issues for years. It's okay for you to rely on me for once, it's okay to share with me what's bothering you."

"Thank you," Phil was genuine, he wasn't sure he could have made it without Clint.

It was the first time he needed Clint that way, normally it was his job to be the protector. Not vice versa. It felt strange to rely on Clint so heavily but nonetheless it gave him a sense of safety.

Clint proved to him that it was safe to rely on him, always.

"You're welcome, sir." _I'll protect you, even from myself if I have to._

The love inside the bond made Phil very happy, lightning his mood like nothing else could.

"Don't ever stop loving me that way," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

Clint looked at his handler in surprise, stunned even. It wasn't like Phil to blurt out his thoughts, and the hint of desperation in his voice in regard of their relationship was new too.

Desperation was normally reserved for near death experiences, abductions and similar catastrophes. Phil regained his composure, taking Clint's silence for a bad sign.

Clint looked around to make sure they were truly alone before he grabbed Phil's hand, pulling him closer until their lips met. "I'm not able to stop loving you, even if I wanted to, and I absolutely don't want to," he whispered against Phil's lips. "We're meant to be together."

Coulson nodded dumbly, missing Clint's warmth instantly the moment the younger man stepped away.

Two agents walked around the corner shortly after. Clint's senses were sharp.

"Parking lot in 20, agent," Phil ordered smoothly.

"Yes, sir," Clint confirmed. One of the agents frowned, he was one of Clint's former handlers and was absolutely not used to Barton obeying anyone. He tended to think that the rumors about Couulson and Barton were just that, rumors.

Sure, he'd heard about their sexual relationship and all the stories about team Coulson but the confirmation felt strange nonetheless. He had been on an away mission at that time but he wondered if the romantic side, the female agents spread around, of Deuce attack had been true too.

"If I had known all it took for you to be tamed was a regular fuck I'd have found you a willing partner long ago."

"Nah, I'm not that easy," replied nonchalantly.

"I heard differently," and he knew the moment the words left his mouth that it was a big mistake.

"Meet me in 10, Gym 4," Coulson ordered his fellow agent. They were both handler but Phil was higher ranking. He outranked him by far.

"Yes, sir," he winced inwardly as he mirrored Clint's words. Coulson's gaze convinced him that sex was not the reason Barton obeyed. "You obey because you're scared of him," he mumbled, praying that they didn't pick up on his words.

"Come with me Barton and call our widow. I'm sure she wants to join us."

"Yes, sir," Hawkeye grinned scarily.

Coulson asked for permission to interrupt Sitwell's training session for a few minutes. He explained why and the other man happily agreed. Jasper loved it when Phil handed people their asses. It was always fun to watch and in addition to that always justified, work related or private didn't matter.

Davis entered the gym with his team in tow.

The room was filled with Jasper and his fledglings, Coulson's team and Davis's.

"Interested in a bet?" One of Davis's men asked but no one was interested. The outcome was a well known fact.

Coulson knocked Davis out under a minute.

"Thanks Jasper, you can continue."

"Always a pleasure Phil. I think their motivation level just increased, a lot," he pointed at his baby agents.

"Beer at O'Reilley's? At ten?" Phil asked cheerfully, or what passed as Phil's work version of cheerful.

"Sure. Is Maria coming?"

"I bet," Clint sent her a text and got a reply shortly after, "yep. She's in."

"Can I have this one?" Natasha asked, nodding in direction of a burly man who glared daggers at them for knocking out his superior.

"Yes," Coulson said calmly.

"Great, give me a second and I'm in too."

"Take it slow or he'll doubt his masculinity," Clint joked.

She huffed and went over to the man, asking for a sparring session. The man agreed with a grin, sure of himself.

She wasn't exaggerating, with one smooth motion he landed on his ass.

"So much to taking it slow," Clint laughed.

Davis's team glared at him for laughing at them. Phil went into protection mood, straightening his back and moving in front of Clint as if he could shield him with his body from their glares. "Romanoff," he ordered and Natasha positioned herself next to him.

Sitwell and his men positioned themselves behind them, forcing Davis's team to back down. It wasn't rare for handler, or agents in general, to battle for dominance. Searching for a way to the top. Coulson, Hill and Sitwell, were on top for years. Fury's beloved hazardous three. Some people tried to change the hierarchy on a regular basis. Davis was one of them.

"We have more important things to do than play around with you," Davis tried to stand straight after his right hand helped him back onto his feet. "Some people actually do work around here."

"See, our work is so secret that you don't even notice we're working," Clint stated, hitting a sore spot."

"That's what you say," Davis replied smug.

"No, that's what I say," Fury's voice let them freeze. "Go back to work before I get the impression you're slacking off."

"Yes, sir."

"Coulson, Barton, Romanoff, come with me. I have a job for you."

"Yes, sir." They said in unison and followed him out of the room.

::::

It turned out that Tony Stark got into trouble, serious trouble. He got himself out of the mess but changing his work ethics was something no one expected. Fury wasn't sure if he was glad or annoyed that Stark Industries stopped developing weapons, and then there was the Iron Man issue that caused him headaches.

Phil, lucky as he was, was ordered to play babysitter for one Tony Stark. In this case lucky was a synonym for migraines, high blood pressure and sleepless nights.

"Great," Phil took off his shirt. "What have I done to deserve this?"

"You're too awesome for your own good," Clint lay lazily on their bed, watching Phil undress.

Phil gave him an annoyed glare.

The archer smirked, annoying his handler even more. The feeling of annoyance let Clint's smirk fade, "We're together in this. I'll be there. In the background ready to shoot him whenever you want."

"Tempting as it is. I can't accept the offer. Stark is too valuable to die; yet."

"I'll scare him then," Clint shrugged.

"Don't come near him," Phil growled.

"Scared I hook up with him?"

"No, I'm scared you might get along and become friends. Both of you mean trouble."

"Love you too," Clint's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And what's with you and Jasper?"

"Simple, we wreck havoc," he deadpanned.

"Uh-hu," Clint smiled. Phil and Jasper are S.H.I.E.L.D.'s evil duo, that's what Nick says whenever they burn something to the ground. "Where's the difference?"

"We're in control, you're loose cannons."

"Okay, you have a point," he clicked his tongue.

Phil gave up his stern masquerade and a huge smile broke out on his face. He joined his archer in bed, "The evening was fun," he sighed.

Phil was just a little tipsy but very relaxed. Clint loved feeling the content hum in their bond, "What makes you so happy?"

"Friends, my job -except Stark- and you of course."

Clint snuggled closer, kissing Phil's neck, "I'm not scared of you," he said softly.

"What?"

"I felt a sense of insecurity and doubt. You're the only person I don't have to fear." The archer felt a heavy sense of relief. "I love you sir, you're my safe haven."

Phil placed a kiss on top of his archer's head, "and you're mine." _I'm glad_.

::::::

"Stark is a menace," Phil fumed after Stark destroyed a huge areal around Stark Expo.

Clint was used to these kind of outbursts or else he would have been surprised how fast Phil's calm façade could drop. "He's more trouble than I am. I'm actually glad I lose my title as menace extraordinaire to Stark."

Phil shot him a glare before he sighed heavily. "Idiot," he mumbled fondly.

"I'm your idiot," Clint was glad that Phil was cooling down, he hated feeling anger.

"I could dump him on Jasper," Phil mused.

"You know how well that will end."

Phil nodded. Clint was right. Jasper would lose his temper and shoot Stark within a week.

"I heard a few birds talking. Wait and see, I'll get you an assignment that'll cheer you up."

"Should I be scared?"

"Maybe," Clint wiggled his brows.

Three weeks later, Phil ended up in Antarctica, with a way too cheerful Hawkeye at his side.

"Care to explain why the hell we're here?"

Clint had practically begged Fury to assign Phil and keep anything mission related a secret. "No."

"No?" The older agent narrowed his eyes, his patients was running low. Clint could feel that but he was determined not to give in. "No sir. You have to see for yourself."

"I don't want to see anything in this hell hole," he growled. "I have better things to do." He regretted his words instantly as Clint's cheerful aura died down, just some hope within the bond was left.

"Richards will show you the way," Clint pointed at one of many scientists. Clint recognized him from one of the pictures within the file he read about the people in charge.

Phil grabbed his lover's wrist the moment the young man intended to leave. "Don't go," he said softly. "Show me your surprise."

The archer nodded, raising his gaze to look Phil in the eye. His handler's features were gentle and his gaze softened too. The archer sighed softly.

Clint led him into a large room, there were many scientists working on machines he had never seen before, guarded by a hand full of agents. In the middle of the room stood that looked suspiciously like an operating table, a person was lying on it.

Phil moved closer to get a closer look and stopped in his tracks. "Is that?" He gasped unable to finish his sentence.

"He is," Clint smiled lovingly; the expression on Phil's face was priceless.

"How?"

"They found him in the ice. They're still defrosting him but he's alive and he will be ready to save the world in no time."

"What am I doing here?" He couldn't take his eyes off of his childhood hero.

"Supervising the process. Stark is in Japan and even after his return he'll be Hill's problem for a while."

Phil took a shaky breath; all kinds of emotions ran through their bond. He looked at Clint. The archer pressed his hand against his chest and Phil realized that he was overwhelming Clint with his feelings. He forced himself to calm down, "Sorry," he mouthed.

Clint smiled, waving his hand to signalize that it was okay. "One week and he'll open his eyes. He will need your help to adjust to the new world."

"Inform me about any changes in his condition," Coulson ordered before he dragged his asset out of the room. "Guide me to my quarters," he snapped at a young agent who obeyed immediately. The agent gave Clint a pitying look, he thought the asset had done something wrong and was in for a good dressing down.

After Phil closed the door of his room, he pushed Clint against the wall and cupped his lover's face , kissing him senseless.

Clint panted heavily, "You're welcome," he smiled.

"I love you," Phil whispered against Clint's kiss swollen lips. "Thank you. You're my very own hero."

"I'm not hero material, but thank you," the archer blushed. He still wasn't used to compliments- To hear how useless he was, what sick kind of scum, that he could handle but to hear that he was great the way he was, was so alien to him that he couldn't believe it.

Phil praised him often over the years but still, it felt like a beautiful lie. The fact that Coulson never lied was a big help to handle his praise.

"You are and one day I will get the chance to prove it to you," Phil rubbed his thumbs over Clint's cheekbones to sooth his fiancé's insecurities. "How did you get the assignment for me?"

Clint brough their foreheads together, "I asked, very nicely, and bribed him with daily coffe runs and my famous muffins; ... and I never begged, should he ever tell you shit like that. I'll deny it until my dying day."

Coulson chuckled, "Did you drop to your knees too? Looking up at him, puppy-eyed?"

"Something like that," the archer replied with a smirk. Fury loved Phil and it didn't take much to convince the director that Phil would love to get the assignment, and that meeting Phil after waking up in a new world would be lees traumatizing than Maria. Mean as Nick could be he enjoyed every moment of Clint's attempt to convince him, making him beg even though he had already decided to grant his old friend the chance to fulfill his biggest dream.

"Let me show you how thankful I am," Phil started nibbling his lover's neck.

"We aren't off duty," Clint slid his hand beneath Phil's shirt though.

"I don't mind."

"You... no?"

"No."

Hawkeye beamed like a kid in a candy shop and pushed Phil onto the bed, "then show me how much you adore me."

"Oh, I will," Phil promised. "Believe me I will."

::::::::::::::

Clint had to return to New York before Rogers woke up but it was okay with him as long as Phil could stay to greet his childhood hero.

Natasha was on a mission in Australia and Clint felt lonely. He hadn't felt that way for a long time.

Hawkeye crawled through the vents in hope to find some comfort there but not even his beloved vents could take the emptiness away. He could feel Phil and the older man was more than fine, but he missed his physical presence. The warmth of his eyes, his smile and his touch. He realized that he had reached a point where the bond alone wasn't enough to make him feel alive, and whole.

Clint felt like the orphan boy he once was. Lonely, scared and restless. Phil was not only his fiancé but his protector too, so much he knew. What caused his sudden sense of loneliness he didn't know. It wasn't the first time they had different missions and it wouldn't be the last. He wasn't jealous of Captain America either. Phil loved him, only Clint, there was no doubt.

"Hawkeye. My office," Nick's voice chimed up in his ear.

"On my way sir," he crawled around a corner and headed in direction of Nick's office. He dropped out of the shaft and landed in front of the director's desk.

"I have a door, you know."

"No but now I do. Hopefully I do not forget."

A barely visible smirk graced Nick's lips, "I have a job for you."

"A milk run, like last time?" He had been disappointed that Nock had ordered him back just to spy on a Hydra scientist.

"We heard about a new organization and it's your job to provide back up for Jasper's team."

"Will you order Phil back?"

"Just when I have to. He's happy where he is. I know he would be happier with you around," he rolled his eyes at the look Clint gave him.

"Damn straight sir."

"We don't need him for this. Meet Sitwell in an hour, he'll brief you and I think you'll leave around 8 p.m."

"Yes, sir." Clint saluted with a smile on his face, "You're awesome Nick."

"Don't push your luck kid," Nick laughed gruff. "Come home safe," he added.

"I do my best, sir. And I know I would be with Phil if you could spare me," Clint left before Fury could reply.

:::::::::::::::::

Clint lay on a rooftop in Chile as a strong wave of joy and awe hit him. He knew instantly that Rogers must have woken up. Phil's happiness warmed his heart and made him feel less lonely, because it was worth it.

Phil's happiness was worth all he had to give.

"Hawkeye, report," Jasper tried to figure out where Barton was. The archer wasn't happy with the position they originally chose so they came up with a new plan and Baron took off to search the right nest.

"I have a clear view, but the sun is kinda distracting. There's nothing around me that could provide some shelter." Clint rubbed the sweat out of his eyes.

"Tell me when you reach your limit."

"Two hours left for today. Tomorrow I'll find a better place; hopefully."

Jasper nodded, he could sense Barton's eyes on him. The target liked to walk down the pavement from north to south, always in broad daylight when the streets were crowded. His destination on those days was the strip club he owned.

Clint barely made it but was proud of himself after Sitwell ended the op for the day. He slumped down onto the hard bed in the safe house. He had to share his room with Jasper and four of his agents, there wasn't enough space for single bedrooms so they had to sleep in the same room.

"Are you alright?" A woman, around 30, asked with worry in her eyes. Clint cracked an eye open to look at her. "Just a headache," _and sunburns_. For a moment he remembered the feeling of Phil's hands on his sunburned skin, feather like touched, massaging the ointment into his skin.

"Here," Jasper held out a bottle of water. Clint moved to get it but the movement made his stomach churn. He jumped out of bed and rushed into the bathroom. His teammates gave him pitying glances. Shortly after his dry heaving subsided Sitwell's phone started buzzing. "Sitwell," he answered. "Coulson... yeah... he's fine, almost. Too much sun... yes... sure." He went to the bathroom and handed Clint the phone.

"Hey, sir," Clint said softly and Jasper closed the door to grant him his privacy.

"Is that agent Coulson?" Is Barton in trouble?" A young man asked, he took a liking to the cocky archer.

"No trouble," Jasper shook his head.

"Why?" Another man in his thirties asked, he was long enough with S.H.I.E.L.D. to know Coulson meant trouble. He wasn't long enough in NYC to know about the special kind of relationship they shared.

The fourth agent smirked, sharing a conspiratorial look with Sitwell, "So you guys don't know?"

"Know what?" The woman was all ears, "Come on Mike tell us!"

"Permission to tell them, sir?"

"Permission granted," it wasn't a secret anyway.

"They're engaged," Mike stated proudly. He held both men in high regard, it was an honor to know them and it made him happy to have the privilege to call them his colleagues. They worked together on a few occasions.

"Who? Barton and Coulson's sister? Or daughter?"

"Marian," Mike groaned. Jasper snickered. "Barton and Coulson," Mike clarified.

"Oh," a shocked look appeared on her face before a pleased smile replaced it. "Cute," she almost squealed.

"He's a fag?... They're fags?" Andy frowned.

"Shut up man, love is love," Antonio hissed. His little brother was gay and he knew firsthand how hard life could be for homosexuals. His brother got beaten up a lot when they were younger.

Jasper narrowed his eyes, "do you have a problem?"

"No, sir." Andy decided to keep his opinion to himself, for now.

"Good," Marian huffed. "How long are they together? I'd never have thought that one of them prefers men. And now they're an item."

"For years," Jasper patted her on the back. "It all started the day they met. They needed a long time to reach the official relationship status, but that was the beginning of something I envy them for."

"A fairytale comes true," she sighed.

"I wouldn't call it fairytale. Barton almost bled out in Coulson's arms; in the middle of HQ. Both men escaped death by far more than once," Mike kept an eye on them just like all the other agents who had witnessed the tragedy years ago. What Deuce did demonstrated that agents weren't safe, there was no safe place on earth.

"He did? How did that happen?" Antonio folded his hands.

Jasper took over and told them what happened that day. He could see the hero-worship in most of his agent's eyes.

"That's gruesome," Marian started but stopped as the bathroom door opened. Clint threw the phone at Sitwell who caught it easily, "Is he coming?"

"No, I talked him out of it. He belongs where he is right now," Hawkeye crawled back into his bed.

"Good night Clint," Jasper said and stroke through Clint's hair, once. The archer's skin wasn't so hot anymore. "Greet him from me," he whispered.

"Will do," Clint whispered and was out like a light seconds later.

"Don't get yourself into trouble," Andy warned.

"Don't worry I'm their friend. Coulson will shoot us all should we cause him harm in any way."

"He can't do that," Andy huffed in annoyance.

"Fury cans."

"What does he have to do with it?"

"They're his best friends. Harming Barton ends with Coulson, Fury, Romanoff, Hill and me on your heels." It wasn't a threat, it was a promise.

Andy swallowed hard, "didn't know he's so high ranking."

"He isn't yet but handpicked by them. He will make it to level 7 within the next two years. Maybe ten by three. He's valuable and reliable."

"I should find some mighty friends too," he muttered..

"Shame on you Andy. He worked hard right?" Marian's gaze wandered from Andy to Jasper.

"He did. Barton is a fighter," Jasper said with adoration in his voice. Clint was a strong man and behind his tough attitude very kind. Sitwell envied his strength, his willpower and loyalty. His background story on the other hand, what made Clint the man he was now, was something he didn't envy. Sometimes he felt pity for the archer.

"Phil," Clint whispered barely audible, communicating with his lover in his sleep.

Jasper sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his friend's cheek. His skin was warm where the sun hurt the skin but the other parts felt normal. _No fever,_ _the pain seems to have faded_, _good boy._

Jasper readjusted Clint's blanket before he slipped into his own bed. "Time to sleep," he ordered. They had a long day ahead of them. A chorus of 'Yes, sir,' followed.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"How is your nest?"

"Better, sir, and the hat does wonders to my frying brain," Clint felt by far better than the night before. His skin was sensitive but that was nothing he wasn't used to as a sniper. The brutality of mother nature was one lesson life, and Phil, taught him the hardest way possible.

"There isn't much to fry," Andy teased with a serious undertone.

"Don't need much to shoot you," Clint stated matter-of-factly.

Marian chuckled, "Good one." Mike hummed in agreement while Antonio slapped the back of Andy's head.

"Silence," Sitwell ordered and Clint could see the tension on his handler's face, mixed with a hint of worry. Jasper sighed inwardly, homophobes were everywhere and had a right to form their own opinion but Sitwell wished they'd keep it to themselves. Hurting people just because you don't hold their preferences in high regard was plain wrong. It was unfair. Jasper made up his mind and decided to file a complaint against Andy , the man was an agent after all. He should behave professional and respect his fellow comrades, especially higher ranking agents.

"Sir, there's something wrong. There's a convoy. Bullet proof cars, three of them. Around three to four people per car," Clint informed them. "Damn what the...," there was not enough time to finish the sentence as occupants of the cars opened fire. They didn't fire at the agents but at the strip club, not caring for civilians.

"Cover the civilians, Hawkeye take them out."

Clint chose an explosive arrowhead and hoped the car wasn't as explosive resistant as it looked like. To their luck, it wasn't. The engine exploded and Clint could see three men who tried to get out of the car but they didn't make it in time. The fire engulfed them, ripping them apart.

The passengers of the other cars jumped out of their SUV's in case more bombs were planted. They were unaware of Clint's presence. Sitwell's men on the other hand, dressed in black suits, attracted a lot of attention. Clint put his bow down to take his rifle, _aim, breath, fire_. He took most of them out, but two were left.

"Hawkeye," Marian's frantic voice echoed through his radio.

"I'm on my way," he got up in search of a better position to provide accurate back up. Before he reached a better spot to aim one of the villains took a bazooka out of the trunk of a SUV.

Clint cursed, he should have destroyed the cars to make sure something like this doesn't happen.

The man aimed at the club, including two agents and five civilians. Clint shot the man but the other one was faster. He picked up the bazooka, took cover and released the missile a millisecond before Clint fired his shot, sending a bullet between the enemies eyes.

Clint ran as fast as he could and jumped, crashing into the fire ladder of the building next door as the missile hit the roof he had hid on moments ago. He lost his hold on the ladder as heat and debris rained down on him. He grabbed a rusty rung before he hit the ground but the metal gave in barely slowing Clint down. His body hit the hard asphalt. The rusty rung had done nothing to stop his fall but hurting his shoulder in addition to the hard impact with the asphalt. Clint landed hard on his back, hitting his head too. He could feel how glass and debris dug into his skin, penetrating his vest at some points. Clint waited for the dust to fade before he took a few deep breaths and stood up. His head spun and his vision was blurry but it was not the right time to falter. He looked around, searching for Jasper and his team, spotting them over at the club. Taking the mark into custody, Hawkeye had no idea where he came from but it didn't matter as long as they had him.

Marian had a gash on her handsome face, Antonio cradled his arm against his chest. _Probably broken in two spots_. Mike looked fine but a barely visible line of pain on his face when he moved told a different story. _Sprained ankle if not worse._ Andy took a bullet to the shoulder, through and through, and glared at Jasper as he applied pressure to the wound. Sitwell, aside from soot and dust, looked unharmed.

Clint squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to clear his vision, _concussion awesome_, he thought sarcastically.

"Hawkeye, report," Jasper barked out after he made sure Andy wasn't bleeding out.

"Dirty," the archer stated dryly. He hated being covered in dust, grime and blood.

"Meet us at the safe house," Sitwell ordered as sirens came closer.

"Copy that," Clint was proud at how strong his voice sounded. He gave the SUV one last glance before he vanished in the shadows, blending in with the homeless and forgotten.

::::::::::::::::

"Sitwell," oh-oh. "Yes, sir. No sir. On his way sir. Should be here any moment. Yes, sir. I understand, sir." Jasper hung up, letting out a long and suffering sigh.

"Fury chewing us out for blowing the mission?" Marian rubbed her neck.

"I wish it was. Coulson," he waved with his phone. "Damn, is he angry. I don't want to know how pissed Fury is right now."

"It wasn't our fault," Antonio almost pouted.

"They're angry for leaving Barton behind. Speaking of Barton where is he?"

"How does he know that?" Marian blinked in confusion.

"You don't want to know," Mike put a pack of frozen peas on his ankle. "But he's right we should have picked him up."

"He was too far away. The police would have caught us," Jasper eyed their prisoner. He was still out from the drug.

Sitwell's phone vibrated again. Fury ordered them to meet with Black Widow at the new rendezvous place. She would wait for them until they were all on board.

He didn't get the chance to object but he had the slight feeling that Barton was already there. Nick would have chewed him out even more would Clint still be missing. Or Romanoff had come to liquidate him and his team. He shivered, "Let's go." His team followed him in silence, no one dared to say anything.

They arrived at the little private airport, Romanoff was waiting impatiently in front of the plane. "Hurry," she glared, leading them into the spacious plane.

Three doctors were on board, two of them cared for a unmoving figure at the other end of the plane.

A nurse and the third doctor treated Andy while three more nurses looked after Marian, Mike and Antonio.

"Finished?" A annoyed voice on the other end of the room caught their attention.

"Barton," Jasper sighed with relief. He knew the man was Barton the moment they entered the plane but he had been too scared to take a closer look.

"Hold still," a doctor hissed. "Almost pushed the shard deeper into your flesh instead of pulling it out."

"Aww, Jackson, didn't know you cared," Clint said amused.

"Never said I care," the man huffed but there was amusement in his voice too. They knew each other for a long time. He was still a trainee at the time Barton got stabbed in the neck.

"How are you?" Jasper approached them, giving Barton a once over. The kid didn't look well.

"Fine, sir," but the light slur in his tone told Jasper otherwise.

"Concussion?"

"Yes, sir." The second doctor confirmed, "Cuts, flesh wounds from flying debris, bruises, strained muscles, abrasions. We have to run more tests to rule out internal injuries and brain damage." They didn't like the way Clint responded to their treatment much. He was too cooperative and he was hiding how lousy he must feel. That was something he only did whenever something was wrong. He whined about scratches and nasty doctors but he never complained about things like broke bones and blood loss.

"He'll shoot me on sight," Sitwell rubbed with a hand over his face.

"You're exaggerating," Clint offered him a reassuring smile. It wasn't very convincing but it lightened his mood a little. "Am not," he returned Clint's smile. "You scared me. Don't do that again, I lost at least ten years of my life."

"Then don't let them shoot at me," the archer deadpanned. Coaxing a tired chuckle out of his handler. "How does he put up with you smart-ass?"

"Love makes blind, and obviously deaf and brain damaged too."

"Take better care of yourself," he placed a hand on Clint's uninjured cheek until the archer nodded in confirmation.

"Will do sir," Barton's voice sounded low and it got harder and harder to stay awake.

"Clint?" Jasper's worried voice was the last thing he heard. "Don't sleep."

::::::::::::::::::::::

"Do that again and I will shoot you," was the first thing he heard as he made his way out of the darkness. Clint opened his eyes, looking straight at Phil. His lover looked like shit. Dark circles beneath his eyes, pale skin and lines of worry on his handsome face. "What are you doing here?... You should be with Rogers...," he whispered.

"Why should I? He gets along with the staff, you on the other hand need some help in that regard." Phil inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly as the tension began to fade.

"Sorry, I cut your trip short," Clint sighed. He ruined Phil's chance to be friends with Captain America.

"I am where I belong," Phil assure. "I am where I'm needed most. and my hearts wants to be here with you," he caressed his archer's forehead. He had been angry at first but after reading the files he knew it was no one's fault. Shit like that happened.

"How are the others?" Clint needed to know, _was taking the risk useful? Or did I hurt Phil for nothing again?_

"They're fine," Phil got up from his chair and gave Clint a gentle kiss. "You're the only one truly hurt."

"How bad is it?"

"No internal injuries and no lasting brain damage, you had a swelling though. But it's gone." Phil took a deep and shaky breath, "You fractured your skull, not badly but... you idiot fractured your skull!" Coulson suppressed the urge to punch Clint in the shoulder.

"That's a first," Clint closed his eyes. The pain level was increasing every passing minute.

"I told you, do it again and I shoot you," Phil's eyes were glued to Clint's handsome face, and bruised, face. The archer looked even more vulnerable than he normally did whenever he let his mask drop in private. His life wasn't in danger, no real touch and go, but it hurt seeing him that way. It reminded him painfully of Deuce's attack. He was secretly glad that he did not witness the incident. One less tragedy that burned itself into his mind. His own imagination was cruel enough. Whenever he closed his eyes, he imagined the jump, the fall and the building crumbling down on him.

"Snap out of it," the rising fear inside the bond felt uncomfortable and told Clint everything he needed to know. He felt even more guilty for getting hurt.

Phil blinked a few time to usher away the fog that clouded his mind. "I might change my mind on shoot Jasper instead."

Clint laughed, wincing in pain."Confirming his worst fear, sir."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. He took care of me Phil. He cares for me."

"Good," He'd have hated to get rid of Jasper. "Get some sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

Clint closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep. He was in and out of it for the next two days.

"Good morning Clint," Phil kissed Clint's cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Phil had slept at home after Clint and nurse Betty convinced him to take a break. "How was the night?"

"Lonely," Phil replied truthfully. _I couldn't sleep and passed out around three in the morning._ A knock on the door brought a sense of fear and joy into the bond, Clint totally forgot what he wanted to say as Phil yelled, "Enter."

Nick, Natasha and S.H.I.E.L.D.'s head priest entered, confusing Clint even more.

Priest Michaels job was it to grant dying agents in the field their absolution. "Am I dying? Phil you said I'm fine."

Natasha chuckled, "No you dummy. It's your wedding day."

"My... what?"

"We don't have time to waste, I should have married you weeks ago, months even."

"It's time?" A huge smile illuminated Clint's face. He felt unworthy and so out of Phil's league that it was almost painful but he knew Phil Coulson would never marry him when he wasn't absolutely sure and in love.

"It is kid," Fury granted him a rare smile. "You gave us a scare kid. You're not going anywhere for a while, not of I can help it."

"Sorry, sir," Clint lowered his gaze. Nick's sentiment made him feel awkward. But nothing could compare with the crushing feeling he got whenever he disappointed his boss, okay disappointing Phil was worse but not by much.

"Not your fault. a disaster was unavoidable."

"Getting crushed by a building was."

"Was not," that was an order. Phil chuckled at his old friend. The director liked Clint so much that he let his facade down, giving him hints that he really cared.

"Rings?" Michaels asked while their boss was busy bantering with Barton.

She pulled a box out of her décolleté, he had no idea where she had space enough to hide it but he decided not to ask.

"Pretty right?" She was happy for her friends, it was about time that they finally knot the tie. They deserved each other, Phil was a very lonely person, that's what she'd observed during her time with them. Coulson had friends at work but no one except Clint to come home to. Clint on the other hand was the most lost and broken soul with a will to live she ever met.

Phil was Clint's anchor to the world, to life.

"I'd like to wed him before he passes out again," Phil interrupted impatiently and with a hint of humor.

"Oh of course," Fury stepped back and Michaels took his place in front of the couple. He quoted the verses, and was glad for the chance to form a bond of love in devotion in the name of god, and his grace. It was way better than absolution, listening to sins, adultery and homicide. After he said what he had to say both agents exchanged their vows. They made them up spontaneously, letting their hearts and bond speak.

Natasha gave them the rings, showing to Clint every gravure on the inside, a bow and date in Phil's ring and a berretta and the date in Clint's ring.

Phil had bought plain platinum bands, Clint wasn't a woman and even if he would have been he would never be the kind of woman who appreciates diamonds and gold.

Phil was fairly certain Clint would be happy with a plastic ring or key chain as long as it was something he gave Clint.

Clint was a modest person, he rarely bought anything expensive for himself. Important wasn't the price but the meaning behind every object he got.

You can kiss the groom," the priest grinned as they stared at each other. The priest interrupted Phil's train of thoughts and he blushed.

Clint laughed despite the embarrassment he felt, "Come here." He tugged on Phil's hand urging him closer, "I want my kiss."

Phil smiled down at Clint for a moment before he brought their lips together, loving and sweet.

Their friends took more pictures before they sneaked out of the room to grant them time alone. The newlyweds used the time they had to hold hands and communicate through the bond. They were happy and totally in love.

"You should sleep some more," Phil smiled gently. It was hard to believe that they were finally married. Clint was his, death failed again. "I can take you home it five days."

"Five,... oh," he groaned. "I want to go home now." Clint closed his eyes, as much as he hated medical he couldn't deny that he was tired, and would be for a few more days.

"I know you do but the doctors are right. you need rest and medical attention; and rehab."

"I know," the archer sighed. "Go home," he opened his eyes a little, studying his husband. It was hard to believe that they had married that morning. Clinton, Francis Barton-Coulson. He liked the sound of it, very much. Their marriage proved home much his stunt had scared Coulson. The older man felt the urge to marry him in medical, that gesture spoke louder than words or the bond could.

Being married was awesome but frightening at the same time.

"Already tired of me?" Phil smirked.

"Never," Clint grinned, raising his hand to watch the platinum bond on his finger. "You're awesome." _My wish came true._

"I know."

"I know you do. At work at least," in private Phil was rather insecure. "You need sleep and a good meal."

"I'd rather stay right here," Coulson settled down on the edge of Clint's bed, taking the archer's hand into his own. Bringing their rings together until their rings touched.

"It's uncomfortable, noisy and not good for your well-being," Clint argued but Phil could feel that Clint's heart wasn't in it. The archer was glad not to be alone but he was worried though.

"I'm fine. I slept at home last night and I ate Chinese, I'm good."

"But."

"No but. I don't need a bed or Captain fucking America as long as I have you," the only reason he had left the day before was the goal to take Clint's worry away. His heart had been in it the day before.

Clint's eyes widened, "I'll never let you live this down." _Captain fucking America_.

"I hope so," _in case you doubt your worth again._ "Now sleep. You can barely stay awake."

"Good night hubby mine," Clint squeezed Phil hand with a loving expression on his face.

"Sleep well," Phil placed a kiss on Clint's hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

Clint hummed in agreement, too far gone to really comprehend what Coulson had said.

Phil lay down on the bed and closed his eyes while he wrapped his arms securely around his husband. He finally granted himself the rest he needed so much.

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End file.
